The Dark One's Diaries
by DianaoftheCrossways
Summary: My take on what happens between Belle and Rumpelstiltskin in Season Two. Follows the course of the show, with my (graphic) imagination filling in the gaps. I have my own take on what's driving our beloved Dark One, so this story will explore that, and of course, some good old classic hot stuff because it's just fun. Rated M for content starting in the second chapter.
1. Prologue

Usual Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters, etc. etc.

**Prologue – A Land Without Magic**

She didn't know how long she'd been there. Sometimes, she tried to keep track by making scratches on the walls, but days would go by in an endless haze, and she'd forget, or other days, she might forget she'd done it and do it again. For the most part, she lived inside her head, inside vague dreams of a castle and strange treasures and a man who frightened and compelled her in equal measure.

When the doctor came… when _she_ came, that was a whole other story, but….

A harsh sound broke the buzz of thought in her mind, and her head snapped up. The door opened, and a man came in. He had dark, intense eyes, with pain, but no cruelty. She sat up, not certain whether or not she should be afraid.

He reached out to her. "Come with me."

His hand was warm as he helped her stand.

"Who are you… why are you doing this?"

Through the pain, she could see kindness in his eyes, and she decided that she would not fear him.

"My name is Jefferson," he said. "And I need your help to do something that I can't. There's a man, his name is Mr. Gold. Find him. All you have to do is tell him where you've been, and that Regina locked you up."

Regina… that was _her_ name. Even hearing it made her sick to her stomach. "What… what?"

Jefferson squeezed her hand. "It's very important. Mr. Gold's going to protect you, but you have to tell him Regina locked you up. He's going to know what to do." His grip tightened to the point of pain, but she didn't flinch. Somehow, she knew she wasn't dreaming, that she was really staring freedom in the face, and she had to keep control of herself. "Do you understand?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes. I-I have to find Mr. Gold."

"And tell him…."

"Regina locked me up."

"Exactly." Jefferson might have smiled a little, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. He wrapped a wool coat around her shoulders. "Put this on. It's cold out there."

She shoved her arms into the coat, shuddering at the warmth pouring over her. "It's cold in here, too."

"You find Mr. Gold, you'll never have to come back here."

With that promise, she let him lead her through the corridor, out of a dark doorway she'd never seen. They emerged into an alleyway, into fresh air and pale afternoon sunshine. She let her head fall back, and breathed deeply, feeling the sun upon her face for the first time since she could remember. She wanted to weep. But Jefferson's voice kept her at bay.

"We have to go. Keep close to me and don't look back."

So she followed him, through the alleyway, onto a street. There were cottages, she noticed, rather pretty ones, and large carriages… no, cars. She knew about cars, didn't she? She must have known. They came upon a street where the cottages were bigger… no, they were stores, and Jefferson stopped.

"You can read, right?"

"Of course." Not that she was ever given much material at the asylum, but she knew she knew how. She pointed at a large, square building across the road. "Marine Garage. What's a garage?"

"I'll tell you later. Just go that way, until you see a shop that says Mr. Gold on the front. It's a pawnshop. He should be there."

Suddenly, she was very cold, and very afraid. The world was bigger and louder than she'd imagined, and things moved very quickly. "What if he's not?"

"Then find a place to hide, and wait until he comes. You remember what to tell him?"

"Regina locked me up."

"Good girl." Jefferson squeezed her shoulder, a reassuring gesture. "You'll be fine. Hurry, now. There's no time to waste."

Then he was gone.

There was no way to go but forward. She couldn't think about returning to the past, to the asylum and the doctors and _her_, and this Mr. Gold was the only bit of direction she had towards some sort of future. So she hugged the borrowed coat around herself tightly and walked.

As strange as it all was, it was also beautiful. The air smelled so sweet, especially outside the place called Granny's, and the sunshine felt so lovely against her skin. How long had it been since she'd felt sunshine? Had she ever? She must have, but she just couldn't _remember_… No time to think about that now. She had to find Mr. Gold, and make sure that he would protect her. He must be a powerful man, she thought, if he could actually stand against Regina. Powerful people were not, in her experience, often kind, but if he would at least protect her, she could handle a bit of unkindness.

There it was. Mr Gold, Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer. The shop was rather small for such a powerful man, but there was something comforting about it. Safety. Protection. Right across the street.

She looked around. No Regina in sight. She hurried across the street, and, drawing in one more sweet breath of fresh air, opened the door to the shop. A small bell tinkled, a lovely sound. It was dark in there, the lights almost as low as they were in the asylum. But even in their dimness, they were a warm shade of gold, rather than the cold paleness she'd lived with for so long, and she liked them.

There was a blur of movement at the back of the shop, a man in a dark suit, with dark hair. His back was to her.

She summoned every bit of her courage. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Gold?"

"Yes I am, but I'm afraid the shop's closed." His voice was low and smooth, strangely sensual, and she felt heat inside of her, not just feeling, but recognition… had she heard that voice before? It was so beautiful.

He turned to face her, and for a moment, all words were gone. There was nothing but him. Those eyes, liquid dark brown, filled with brilliance and wit and pain and passion and power… those eyes could speak volumes, even if his perfect lips never formed a word. He was handsome, in the quiet, dignified way she somehow knew she'd always loved, even if she didn't remember why, and strength and control just swirled around him, from the silky fall of his dark hair, to the straight line of his shoulders, to the precise cut of his suit. But it was all secondary to those eyes….

Which were staring at her like she was an apparition.

She forced herself to move forward, and keep talking. "I was, ah… I was told to-to find you and tell you that Regina locked me up."

He moved towards her, and she realized that he used a cane, though it seemed to just add to his overall aura of power, rather than show some sort of weakness. His face, though, still looked like he was looking at something he couldn't quite believe.

"Does that mean anything to you?" she asked, trying to keep the desperate hope from her voice? If he didn't listen to her, if he refused to protect her, this would all be in vain.

But somehow, he seemed more frightened than she was. He moved closer, and reached a trembling hand to touch her shoulder. "You're real. You're alive." His face tightened. "_She_ did this to you?"

Yes, he did know Regina, and no, he didn't like her. There was so much to think about, so much to wrap her head around, but she needed to know one thing first. "I was told you'd protect me."

Something else entirely came into his face, something she couldn't quite understand, and she wasn't certain if she wanted to run away or stay standing there forever. Then he reached for her. "Oh yes," he whispered, pulling her tightly into his arms. "Yes, I'll protect you." He held her for only a moment, but she could feel the heat, the strength, and she knew that Jefferson had directed her well. She would be safe here. Everything, his eyes, his mouth, even the way she fit against his chest, felt like coming home, to a place that was meant for her and only her. Yet his intensity….

She let him draw away, almost relieved to have space again. "I'm sorry do… do I know you?"

The look on his face was as beautiful as it was overwhelming, pain and emotions she didn't really understand, but she desperately wanted to remain near. "No," he said gently. "But you will."

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin might have been world's biggest idiot, hurrying through the woods with a traumatized girl behind him. Maybe he should be back at the shop, serving Belle hot tea and gently explaining their shared past to her. Maybe he should have just taken her right home and done his level best to seduce her. It might have worked. She'd been nervous at the shop, but even if her mind didn't remember him, her body certainly did… he'd felt the surge of heat between them even in the brief moment he'd held her. If he was any kind of decent man, he'd simply have taken her home, given her something to eat, and just let her rest.

But the fact of the matter was, he was a selfish prick to the core, and he knew it.

Oh, he might try to justify this with the fact that her eyes had lit up at the suggestion of a walk in the woods, she'd been inside for so long, you see, but he knew, in his heart, he was being a bastard. Yet he couldn't stop himself. He was so close. Everything he'd thought about, planned for, dreamed of for so many years, would soon be within his reach. And now, if he could make it up to her well enough, he might manage to have Belle, too.

Was this the feeling of a man who had walked through hell to be steps away from paradise? Ignoring the stiffness of his injured leg, he hurried through the woods, mindful of the waning light, selfishly grateful that Belle could keep up with him.

Then he felt it. A pulse, a surge, a rush of the most powerful magic there was, rolling through the whole of Storybrooke. It nearly knocked him off his feet. He steadied himself and smiled. Dear Miss Swan… he knew she'd figure it out. She was a clever girl, after all, and there was little in the world more pure and powerful than a mother's love for her child. He glanced behind him. Belle hadn't slowed, so neither did he. And he was relieved. They were so close!

But then he heard her. "Wait."

"No, no, we're very close." Of course, he hadn't explained everything to her. Nobody could know his secret shames, his failures, his desperate plans to right the wrongs he'd done.

"Rumpelstiltskin, wait." The words ended in a whisper, but screamed through his mind and heart. Her, saying his name. He'd never thought he'd hear that again. By the fairies, it was lovely.

He turned slowly as she approached. She looked him full in the eyes now, her wonder and delight alive on her beautiful face. "I-I remember. And I love you."

The words washed over him like water, like the best kind of magic, soothing every dry and lonely part of his soul. She reached for him without hesitation, and this time they could hold one another as equals, who knew and understood their history, who shared the same feeling.

"Yes," he murmured against her tangled brown hair. "Yes. And I love you too."

He might have stood there forever, holding her, but as much as he wanted that, there was something he wanted even more. So he drew back, and stroked her hair. "But hey, there will be time for that. There will be time for everything. But first, there's something I must do."

If anyone from his old life, or even from Storybrooke, could see him right now, they might consider calling him a fool, but none of them understood. None of them had lived his life, felt his pain, fought so hard and so long for what he was fighting for. So he led Belle the last few steps to the well.

"What is this?" she asked.

Perhaps it was even better, having someone he loved beside him to share in the moment. "This is a very special place, Belle. The waters that run below are said to have the power to return that which one has lost."

His leg hurt, and he didn't give a damn. He climbed up beside the well and tossed in that precious, hard-won vial. Immediately, he felt it, the first rush of power.

It came in thick furls of cloud, deep purple and indigo, heavy with the sweet smell of magic. Rumpelstiltskin stepped back off the platform, and drew Belle beside him, mind spinning with possibilities for the future. If they could do it, he and Belle, if they really could be in love and happy, he could brew more potion, this time of them. Imagine what he could do with that!

"But I don't understand," she said.

"We're in a land without magic, Belle." He pulled her closer, hoping she could feel his strength, hoping she would trust his power. "And I'm bringing it. Magic is coming."

Then she asked the strangest question of all. "Why?"

"Why? Because magic is power." He kept a reassuring hand on her back. Soon, he knew, she'd understand. Soon she'd be grateful at how powerful he was, and soon she would love that part of him. And with her by his side, with her love feeding him, he'd be stronger still.


	2. Broken

_Here's the first chapter, based on the events of "Broken." _

**Chapter 1 – Broken**

It didn't take long for the sick purple haze to dissipate. Soon, it was gone, but Belle knew that even though it could no longer be seen, it had left its mark. Something was forever changed, and she wasn't at all certain that it was a good thing. By the fairies, she wanted to trust him, wanted to throw herself into his arms, against his chest, and believe that he would hold her and shelter her until she felt strong enough to stand and fight alongside him, but why magic? Why, if they were finally together, did he need magic now? Didn't he remember what it had done to him back in the old land?

His hand was upon her arm, strong and loving. He turned her gently to him. "My darling Belle. You have to tell me what happened to you." As he spoke, his beautiful eyes were upon her, filled with caring.

"I was abducted."

The hand tightened around her bicep. "Regina."

Belle nodded. "She locked me away until her curse, and I've been in the asylum ever since." It was actually easy to say, to matter-of-factly relate the tale of her lonely, empty existence, but that was only because it was over. In some ways, already, it felt like a hazy memory, a nightmare that she could just forget.

Something else rose in Rumpelstiltskin's eyes, something sharp and cold, that pushed back the warmth. "For twenty-eight years?"

Belle tried to push back her sudden nervousness as he let go of her shoulder, and his eyes grew even harder. "All these years, you've been here? Alive." The last word was said with a flatness that alarmed her.

No. This was not happening again. "Is that-is that why you did this… why you wanted magic… for revenge?" Her heart started to pound.

"No, no." Then she saw it, the shadow of the Dark One upon his face. "But it might come in handy."

"No." She could not let this happen… she could not lose him to that darkness again; she had to fight for him. She knew he loved her; his actions in the pawnshop, when she didn't even know who she was, much less who he was, had proven that, and his love had to be stronger than the power that beckoned his darker side. "No."

"I cannot let this stand, Belle, I will not let this stand!"

Neither would she. "Look," she said, taking his free hand in both of hers. "Promise me. Promise me you won't give in to your hate. Promise me you won't kill her."

Though she searched his face, he would not look right at her, and she knew he was slipping away. She held his hand even tighter, and set her heart out between them. "Promise me that we can be together."

Then he was there, his eyes filled with everything she knew was inside of him, love and pain and passion and power, and she felt something break. He raised a trembling hand to touch her cheek. "Oh, sweetheart I promise."

Belle couldn't stop the tears, and she didn't care. This was her true love, this was her Rumpelstiltskin, the man who had made her brave and made her understand what love felt like, and showed her magic and adventure and life. When he kissed her, his mouth was sweet and warm and firm, sweet nectar after a lifetime in the desert. This was it. The perfect moment. When the kiss ended, her lips were wet and it was wonderful, so she rested her head against his neck, safe in the arms of the man she loved, where she could stay forever.

Of course, standing in the woods forever really wasn't practical, so after a few moments, Rumpelstiltskin pressed a moist kiss to her forehead and murmured, "Darling, shall we head back to the shop? I have a few things to do there, then we can go home."

Home. For a moment, as they walked, hand-in-hand, Belle thought of his magnificent castle, with the great big rooms and the treasures, but then she remembered they were no longer in that world. He must have a cottage – a house – here, like other people.

"Will I be your housekeeper again?" she asked, deliberately keeping her voice light.

He looked down at her and smiled. "I've actually become rather adept at taking care of things myself. I'm quite a good cook, if I do say so, and I'd be glad to make your meals for a while."

Though she'd been locked away, Belle knew a little about how things worked in this world. Often people, husbands and wives, took care of the home together, as equals. Husbands and wives. Well, that was thinking far ahead… wasn't it? She forced her mind to more immediate things. "So I'll stay with you, then?"

He slowed. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," she said, without hesitation. "That's what I want. If we're going to be together, I want it to start right now."

That decision had to, of course, be celebrated with another kiss, which led to another, and another, until her blood grew warm. She whimpered a protest when Rumpelstiltskin pulled away. "The sooner we get to the shop, the sooner we can get home," he murmured.

Belle would have happily sprinted the rest of the way there, but she was mindful of the fact that he walked with a cane. She thought about asking him why, but decided against it. There were so many things to talk about, and she didn't want him to think that his physical infirmity mattered, made him less of a man in her eyes. So they walked, and her mind continued to spin with questions. What was his home like? Would he send her to a guest bedroom, or would he want her to share his bed immediately? The prospect sent a shiver through her body.

Rumpelstiltskin obviously misinterpreted that shiver, as he squeezed her hand and said, "we're almost there, my love. You can warm yourself at the shop."

Yes, the shop was warm. He held the door for her, like a proper gentleman, though as soon as they were inside, his demeanor changed again, and his shoulders grew stiff. "You ah… you wait here, Belle. I'm going to find you something to wear. You've spent enough time in these rags." He pointed at her coat, wrinkling his nose with distaste, and Belle realized that, to him, and to the woman she'd once been, her clothes were, indeed, rags.

"Thank you," she said.

He moved swiftly to the back of the shop, and she waited, hearing him fumble about, and wondering if he did, indeed, keep women's clothing somewhere in here. On the whole, the place was rather dusty, she observed, but that was comforting, rather than distasteful. It was lovely, but strange, to see the man she'd fallen in love with back in the castle as he was now, without the evil curse. It was nice to see another connection between that life and this one, innocuous as it was.

"Only two things are inevitable: death and dust," Rumpelstiltskin said, as he came back through the curtain, now wearing a pair of leather gloves. "Darling, none of the garments I have seem to be quite right for you, but I do have a friend who owns a ladies' shop nearby. If you want to sit and rest for a few minutes, I'll go right over there and pick up a few things."

For a moment, Belle thought about asking to go with him, but then she realized how very tired she was. Resting did sound nice. She let him help her over to a small chaise lounge, where she gratefully sank into the softness. He kissed her very gently.

"Rest, my love, and I'll be back before you know it."

* * *

The witch. The whore. The evil, troll-fucking bitch! Did she think she was actually going to get away with this? Was she really so stupid that she thought she held the power between them? Yes, his plan was complex, and yes, it had necessitated some extreme indignity, including that disgusting magical prison, but he'd thought that Regina, out of everyone, might have figured out that he had something more going on than met the eye. He'd known she would want to make him suffer, but _this_? _This_? Had she not thought about what he'd do to her? Obviously the stupid slut had a death wish; there was simply no other reason imaginable for why she would have ever thought to have kept Belle from him.

Rumplestiltskin kept to the shadows as he walked. He didn't need the entire town seeing him right now, not until he was finished with this particular task, and he'd safely stowed away one of the two very powerful objects he was carrying.

He patted the amulet he'd slipped into his pocket. A peculiar treasure, this little thing, but he'd always suspected it might one day be of use. Well, today was that day. Once he'd burned Regina's palm with the brand borne on this amulet, all he had to do was summon the wraith that was bound to the same, and that evil being would finish the job that he'd promised Belle he would not do. Conveniently, wraiths were rather persistent creatures. They did not give up. Ever. They would keep going until they'd killed their prey.

He watched as David, Mary Margaret, Emma, and young Henry hurried out of the sheriff's station. They'd gone in with Regina, and were now leaving without her. This would be even simpler than he could have hoped.

As soon as the newly-reunited family's backs were turned, he ducked into the back door of the station. He stood in the shadows for a moment, and watched Regina stand in the cell and wave her hand at the lock, as though she was trying to work a spell. He bit back a laugh. "Magic is different here," he said smugly, then added for good measure, "Dearie."

She looked at him with far too much arrogance for a woman who was soon to die. "I noticed. I assume this is all your doing."

"Most things are," he assured her. Sad, how most people would never know the full truth of that. Then again, if they did, he might very well find himself strung up the nearest tree, and now that he'd found Belle, and would soon be on his way to the rest of his plan, he really didn't want that.

"Get to it Rumple," Regina snapped. "What do you want? Are you here to finish the job?"

Though he would keep his word, Rumpelstiltskin did rather regret the fact that he wouldn't have the pleasure of feeling the foul bitch's blood run down his hands. "No, no, no. You're safe from me."

"I feel so relieved." Ogres, her voice was shrill. He soothed himself with the knowledge that it would soon be silenced forever.

"I made a promise to someone that I won't kill you." He didn't say, _and that's the only reason you're not writhing on the floor with a knife in your throat_, but the words hung between them nonetheless.

Regina arched a brow. "Who could elicit that from you?"

"Belle." The name tasted sweet upon his tongue, even more so as he saw the fear rise in the hell-bound whore's eyes.

"She's alive?"

It was comical, that she was actually trying to sound surprised. "You are a dreadful liar."

Now, there was real fear on her face, and Rumpelstiltskin loved to see it. "I could have killed her, but I didn't." She gripped the bars of the cell and leaned forward, eyes wide in a look that might have turned a weaker man's heart.

As if that was supposed to be a consolation. "No, you did much worse than that. You kept her alive so you could kill her when it suited you. A fate worse than death. Which, incidentally, is what I have in store for you." Before she could blink, he had her hand, and was yanking the amulet from his pocket. He pressed it tight against her palm, and savored the scent of her burning flesh. A proper fate for a witch, really, to burn.

The slut whimpered. "Is that…?"

"Yes, dearie. The one thing no one can escape. Destiny. And I promise, yours is particularly unpleasant." Not as bad as she deserved, of course, but it was the worst thing he could think of on short notice.

Regina yanked her hand back, but it was too late. The deed was done. She was Marked, and there was nothing anybody could do. A cold, liquid surge of glee rushed through Rumpelstiltskin's spine, and he dangled the amulet in front of her, feeling every bit the smug, giggling Dark One he'd once been. Ogres, he'd forgotten how good that rush of triumphant power could feel. It would soon be over. He had won. He'd defeated her for good.

With one last, pitying glance at the pathetic excuse for a human being who had once been a promising protégé, he hurried out of the station and back out to the woods. Regina had been a painful, but important lesson. Power was to be hoarded, never shared. Anything he gave away could be turned against him.

Wrong, that Belle had suffered so much for that lesson. He knew he'd have to spend a long time making it up to her, but he'd be glad to do that. They'd rest for a few days, get to know one another once again, nurture the love that was burning between them, and then slowly, he'd let her know a bit of his plans. He'd have to sanitize the tale a bit, of course, but he was a master of words. He could do that.

And now, he could make Regina suffer for what she'd done to Belle. He found a good clearing in the woods and dropped the amulet. Then, for the first time in over twenty-eight years, he raised the silver dagger carved with his name.

"The dark one summons thee."

Slowly, painfully, he knelt and stabbed the dirt beside the amulet. It took only minutes for the wraith to emerge, a hideous creature draped in black rags, stinking of death and sulfur, now draped in the amulet. It looked down at him for but a moment, then flew away.

Rumplestiltskin didn't know how much a Wraith death hurt. From what he'd heard, the pain was supposedly excruciating, especially once the soul was trapped, but those could just be rumors. He hoped it was true. He wanted Regina to spend eternity in torment. It was no less than what she deserved.

There was a new spring in his step as he made his way back to the shop. Regina was done with, now he could focus on Belle. On his way, he slipped into the back door of the ladies' clothing store, the premises of which he owned. It was empty, shut down for the night, and he was rather glad of it. This was an awkward enough task. He found some large bags and put in dresses that looked like they might fit Belle, along with a few pairs of high-heeled shoes. She hadn't worn heels so high back at the castle, but one of the things that this world had to offer that was rather superior to theirs was women's fashion. A nice pair of legs in high-heeled shoes was a lovely sight. Belle in high heels would be spectacular.

The last stop was in the lingerie section. By the fairies, if he ever got back to the Enchanted forest, he was going to start a new fashion trend. Every woman in every realm should wear such lovely scraps of lace. Unsure of the sizes, he put many different garments into a bag, including a few handfuls of satin that were probably supposed to be nightgowns. Then, ashamed of himself, he grabbed a long, modest white nightdress that looked like something a lady of their old land might have worn.

Belle in nightclothes… he didn't need to think about that right now. She'd said she wanted to stay with him, to be with him, but did that mean she wanted to be in his bed _tonight_? Was she ready for that? Was _he_ ready for that? Back at the castle, he'd spent long nights thinking about taking her to his bed, how she might look, how he might touch and taste her. Even here, in Storybrooke, he'd woken up more nights than he cared to remember, his mind filled with dreams of her, his cock hard and aching. And now….

It was an interesting balance, to walk back to his shop with the bags and his cane, but he did it quickly. He let himself in the back room and set everything down, and forced himself to think of a hideous mountain ogre he'd seen taking a shit once, just to settle his raging hard-on. There could not be a less arousing sight – or smell – than a defecating ogre.

Body firmly under control, he slipped back into the main part of the shop, where Belle lay curled on the chaise. She opened her beautiful eyes as he approached. "You're not a dream," she whispered.

He bent to kiss her. "No, I'm not."

She reached up to draw him closer, and he had to kiss her again, just to prove that he wasn't a dream.

* * *

While Rumplestiltskin made tea in the outer area of the shop, in the back room, Belle searched through his bags of treasures for something to wear. She noticed he did have a few pieces of ladies' clothing hanging there already, but she was glad he'd gone for something nicer.

Storybrooke fashion really was quite something. Skirts that didn't hang to her ankles, restricting her movement, nary a corset in sight… she laughed as she found the hastily-stuffed back of lingerie, picturing how embarrassed he must have been packing that up. In the end, she selected a knee-length black and white tweed sheath that fit her nice and slim, showing off her legs. There was also a lovely pair of black shoes with high heels. In the asylum, she'd always envied _her_ beautiful shoes when she'd come to gawk.

Belle was admiring herself in a mirror when she heard voices from the store front. Someone didn't seem happy with Rumplestiltskin, but perhaps that was to be expected, him bringing magic here. Hopefully people would come round to it. Hopefully he did have a good, unselfish reason for doing it, and she hoped he'd let her know what that was sooner rather than later.

Suddenly, the floor lurched beneath her, and she stumbled, nearly landing face-first in her bags of clothes. There was a long, agonized wail, not a human sound, but that of an otherworldly creature. She righted herself and staggered towards the curtain, needing to get to him, needing to know not only that he was safe, but that she was safe with him. But then she heard voices again, and she paused.

"That is my gift to you." Rumplestiltskin sounded very calm, in spite of the clamor outside, the shrieking wind and the howling sirens, in spite of the fact that he was breaking her heart. "That is going to take care of Regina."

The ground shifted again, and lights burst, flashing about, as things hissed and exploded. Belle heard the horrible wail again, and looked at the back door of the shop, wondering if she should just run now and be done with it.

"Emma, come on." A woman's voice.

"We need to go take care of this. "A man's voice.

Another woman murmured something low to Rumplestiltskin, and he replied, his words unintelligible to Belle, though she thought she might have caught the phrase "owe me a favor." Then the bell jingled and the door slammed, and she knew the company was gone. She pushed through the curtain.

He turned to look at her, guilt flashing over his beloved face. How could she have been so blind? Was she really so desperate for shelter and safety she was willing to just believe that he had changed? "Hey," he said.

She had to force the words past the lump in her throat. "You lied to me."

"No… I-I kept my word. _I_ will not kill her." He looked a little nervous, but rather pleased with himself all the same, like a criminal who had found a loophole in the law. What had she been thinking?

Tears stung her eyes. "No, you toy with words, just like you do people. You're still a man who makes wrong choices. I thought you'd changed."

"What, in the hour you've known me?" he sneered, and she knew she was talking to the Dark One again, not her beloved Rumple.

Turning away so he wouldn't see her tears, she hurried towards the door.

"Belle I-I-I'm sorry. Belle, I'm sorry. I am."

She only let herself look at him for a moment before she hurried out into the storm he'd brought about.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin wasn't certain how long he stood in the shop, staring at the door. Perhaps, had he been a whole man, without this damnable bad leg, he might have run after her, but perhaps it was best as it was. Belle was no fool. She wouldn't be content to be kept in the dark for long; he would have to, and soon, explain why he'd done what he'd done, and then she would likely leave him anyhow, so wasn't it just best to get it over with now?

Ogres, life had been so simple once! Milha, Bae, their simple life in the village… of course, nothing could ever stay that way. And becoming the Dark One _had_ enabled him to save his son, even if he'd been such a fool as to lose him again. At least there was the possibility that Bae was alive, and that father and son could someday be reunited. But it would be every bit as complicated to keep the whole truth from his son as it would be to keep it from Belle… and neither one would forgive him. Still, he had to try. Rumplestiltskin had spent too many years, destroyed too many lives, mutilated too much of his own soul, to give up his search now. He was closer than he'd ever been.

The howling wind grew louder, and he went to set up his spinning wheel. He sat at the old stool and got to work. A monotonous task, certainly, and in this world, he had little need for gold, but the rhythm soothed him, sent him back to a simpler time when he was happy with his son. Or happy with Belle in his castle.

She had brought light and life to that dusty place, with her sweet smile and her laughter and her wry, impertinent questions. Of course, she'd also added a certain… frustration to his nights, as he'd lie in his cold bed, body hard as stone, fantasizing about her beside him. He never actually would have taken her, though… even a beast had his moral limits. It might be acceptable for him to allow the wife of a certain nobleman to seduce him (several times) in place of whatever payment her husband had failed to make as part of a deal, but taking advantage of a woman in his employ was an entirely different matter. And, back then, he'd been such a different creature. After becoming the Dark One, and losing Bae, he had tried to enjoy the power for a while, engaging in whatever bacchanalia suited his fancy, but as time had worn on, those desires had faded. No amount of drunkenness or sex would appease his loneliness. He hadn't really remembered he was human at all until Belle had come into his life. But by then, he'd felt himself too far gone to be worthy of love.

Yet she did love him. Back then, at his castle, she did truly love him, as much as he hadn't been willing to believe it. Here, in Storybrooke, even after all those years in the asylum, she loved him still, and as much as he'd hurt her, she loved him even at this moment, he knew, even though she'd run from his shop. She wouldn't be so sad if she didn't love him, would she?

What would happen if he gave up his quest for Bae and simply became the man Belle wanted him to be? He could be happy. Going to sleep with her every night, waking up with her every morning… talking about their lives and their dreams and whispering their love to one another at night. He knew, instinctively, that a life with her would be very different than his life with Milha had been. Belle would never mock him. Belle would always be glad to see him. And if they had a child, Belle would never, ever, abandon it….

Just as he could not abandon Bae.

No. He'd failed his son once, he could not do so again. It was unthinkable, no matter how much he wanted to be with Belle. And if he had to go down more dark paths to find his boy… well, that was the price he would have to pay, even if it meant losing Belle.

Heart aching, mind made up, Rumplestiltskin continued to spin. He'd set his course long ago. There was no turning back.

Eventually the storm ceased, and he felt a burn of rage and power sweep across the town… the fury of a dark creature denied his due. The Wraith was gone, without its prey.

Well, David and Mary Margaret had always been a clever pair, and little Miss Swan had more power than any of them, except Rumplestiltskin, of course, knew. He shouldn't be surprised. And perhaps he had been a bit hasty, summoning that thing… there were future uses for Regina here in town, and he could always think of other ways to twist the knife.

Rumplestiltskin continued to spin.

When the front bell jingled, he convinced himself he was hearing things, and when he heard heels clicking on the floor, he knew he needed a stiff shot of whiskey and some sleep. Then he heard Belle clear her throat. "Hi."

He spun on the stool. "Hey."

She looked beautiful, even with her hair mussed, and he wondered how cold she'd been in the storm. "I uh… went for a long walk."

"I thought you didn't want to see me." He didn't fully succeed in keeping the bitterness from his voice.

"I didn't. But, um, I was worried."

Why the hell did he have to fall in love with a woman who cared about the good of everyone around her? This was just bloody complicated. "Well, the beast is gone. Regina… lives."

She looked relieved, though he knew she was trying to hide it. "So, ah, you didn't get what you wanted."

"Well, that remains to be seen." Now that he wasn't entirely certain _what _he wanted, it was a little more complicated.

Belle glanced around the shop, her gaze resting on a small object behind the spinning wheel. She picked it up and smiled. "You still have it? My chipped cup?"

She looked so delighted it sent another wrench thought Rumplestiltskin's heart. Why did she have to be so fucking adorable? He gathered every bit of his courage, every bit of noble intention he'd ever had in his life (which wasn't much), and forced himself to stand. "There are many, many things in this shop," he said, taking the cup from her. "But this? This is the only thing I truly cherish."

Her smile grew even wider, and he knew he had to act now, before his selfishness won over this one bit of good sense. "And now you must leave."

"What?"

"You must leave because, in spite what you hope, I am still a monster." The truth tasted bitter on his tongue.

But rather than weeping again, or turning to storm away, his astonishing Belle just smiled, eyes filled with love. She grasped his shoulders. "Don't you see? That's exactly the reason I have to stay."

He looked at her hands, pale and beautiful against the dark fabric of his shirt. "You really might be a little mad, you know."

She pressed a brief kiss against his lips. "Then I should fit right in with you, shouldn't I?"

"Then let's go home."

_Chapter 2 to come by the end of the weekend. It will pick up right where this leaves off, so basically just my conjecture of how the episode COULD have ended were the series on HBO or Showcase instead of ABC..._


	3. Between Broken and We are Both

**Chapter 2 – Between Broken and We are Both**

Or

_Over the Butter Churn_

Belle had never ridden in a motor vehicle before, but once she had sunk into the soft leather seat of Rumplestiltskin's large black towncar, she decided she liked it. Much less bumpy than a carriage, and not even a whiff of horses. How such a thing was propelled she wasn't quite certain, but she figured it must have something to do with automatic machinery, like the devices at the asylum. At any case, Rumplestiltskin seemed to have no trouble making it move, and keeping it properly controlled, as they glided through the darkened streets of Storybrooke, many of which were littered with debris.

Did he even feel guilty for what he'd done? She hoped so. He hadn't seemed really disappointed that Regina was still alive, so perhaps that was a good sign. Perhaps he knew he'd acted rashly, and would use more care in the future. In the meantime, she'd do her best to help him soften, help him grow more gentle, and see the benefits of a life filled with kindness rather than hate.

She reached out to rest a hand on his thigh, just wanting to touch him, but before she quite got there, her stomach growled, ruining the moment. Rumplestiltskin looked at her with a gentle smile, even as her face flushed in the shadows.

"Have you even eaten today?"

"Breakfast." If you could call the gruel they served at the asylum breakfast. They hadn't ever starved her, but the food was certainly not satisfying.

"Then I shall make you something. What do you like?"

Belle had to cast her mind back to her old life in the Enchanted Forest to find an answer. But she'd rarely paid attention to food there; just that she knew she couldn't eat too much of it because she needed to stay slim. "I'm not sure."

He sighed, and she hoped he wasn't getting too frustrated. "Can you tell me what you don't like, then?"

That, she could answer. "Peanut butter sandwiches. Every evening, that's what they gave us with tea. I don't ever want to taste one again."

"They call it supper here, Rumplestiltskin said. "And you have my word, you shall never have to eat one as long as you are with me."

_Forever_, Belle thought, but she kept it to herself. She tried harder to cast her mind back to life in the castle with the Dark one. She'd fixed his meals there… she must have had some foods she liked. "Fruit, perhaps? We never had fruit. Except for apples. _She_ would bring apples." There was no need to explain who _she_ was. At times, Belle had thought about refusing them, but there had been so little variety in her meals, the sweet fruit, bitter as the source had been, was always a welcome relief.

"I happen to be rather fond of fruit, so I do have some on hand." He slowed the car and parked it. "All right, my dear, we are home."

Rumplestiltskin's house loomed large in the darkness. It might have been red or pink, Belle couldn't quite see. He insisted on carrying the clothing bags, as awkward as it was for him to get up the steps with the burdens and his cane, but she kept her mouth firmly shut, knowing that he needed to be the gentleman here. He needed to feel like he was taking care of her.

The front door was rather lovely, heavy wood with panes of colored glass. He unlocked it and let her go first, into a cavernous hall that smelled of dust. A lovely golden light glowed from above, illuminating tables and shelves full of….

"Your collection!" she gasped, unable to keep the grin from her face.

She felt his hand against the small of her back. "Indeed, my love. I keep some treasures in the shop, others here. I've found it… comforting to have things from my old life surrounding me."

Belle ran her fingers across a table stacked with fine china. "And it all needs cleaning, just as much."

There was apology in his tone. "I tend to fall behind on that. Here, I'll show you upstairs, and you can get settled, and then I'll make us something to eat. How does that sound?"

It sounded lovely indeed, and Belle was pleased to be shown on a tour of his house. How different it was from the first tour of his castle, where she had been disgusted and compelled in equal measure. Now she was just excited. Familiar treasures, like his golden fleece, as well as unfamiliar things, including an odd little device he called a 'smoke detector' that he hung right from the ceiling, though it did not light up.

Upstairs, he showed her to a lovely bedroom decorated in yellow and blue, and she instinctively knew he would never have used it. The colors were too delicate, the white furniture too feminine. Why would he even have such a place?

When he spoke, he couldn't seem to quite meet his eyes. "Belle… there's a lot to sort out here. I know you must be dreadfully tired from your ordeal, and I want you to know that there's… there's no pressure, no expectations from me. We… things… can progress at whatever speed you're comfortable with, all right? We have time now, time for everything, don't we?"

_Time for everything_. Perhaps he was right. Belle was bone weary, and she was certainly not feeling her most beautiful. Her hair was greasy, her cheeks were pallid, and she hadn't had a shower in days. She glanced past him, to an open door that led to the bathroom. "You have a bathtub!" she gasped, and scurried round him to examine that newfound treasure. The little room was gorgeous, tiled in cream, with a tub so large she and Rumplestiltskin could probably fit comfortably in there together (she quickly shelved away _that_ idea for a later time), and stacks of fluffy yellow towels.

Belle felt a pair of warm, strong arms wrap around her from behind. "Would you like a hot bath?"

She could smell the lovely floral scent of the soaps and creams. "More than anything."

His soft laughter rumbled in her ear. "Then you do that, my love. Take as long as you like, and some food will be waiting when you are finished." With a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, he took his leave.

Belle sat on the soft brocade coverlet of the bed. It was so soft she gasped in pleasure. After the hard cot in the asylum, this would be like sleeping on a cloud. But she couldn't just sleep in this dress. She dumped the shopping bags on the bed, and quickly sorted the clothing between that which would fit and that which would not. There really were some lovely things. However, all of them had a vague, unpleasant smell, something that reminded her of the asylum. It took her only a moment to realize that it was plastic. Everything in the asylum had been wrapped in plastic, her meals, her changes of clothes, even her soaps and such. Well, it was a large tub. She could deal with that.

She ran herself a hot bath, added some rose oil, and sank into the water, savoring the most delicious sensation she could remember feeling. Even the tub in her father's house had not been so grand, nor had she ever been left alone to enjoy a bath without an attendant maid or two to wash her hair and fuss over the shape of her body, whether she'd gained weight, and whether or not her hands were soft enough. After going to the castle, she'd developed thick callouses, and had actually found a strange satisfaction in them, a measure of freedom in spite of the fact that she'd been bound to serve the Dark One.

At the castle, she'd only had a hip bath, but she hadn't minded it, enjoying the solitude, enjoying the strange erotic charge of being naked in his home. Near the end of her stay there, she'd started to wonder….

Damn! Damn it all to hell and back again!

How could she have forgotten?

All pleasure from the bath fled as several particular memories settled into place, memories that could very well destroy the happiness that was within her grasp. Her mind spun with possibilities.

_I don't have to tell him_. _He might not realize_. _I could lie_.

No real solutions presented themselves, so he washed her hair and reluctantly got out of the bath, finding a bit of joy again as soon as she realized how deliciously large and fluffy the towels were. She tucked one round herself, pleased at how well it wrapped over her whole body with space to spare. She filled the tub with fresh water so she could launder the clothes he had given her. The showerhead made it wonderfully convenient to get things rinsed out, though it was a little awkward to find enough places to hang everything to dry. Still, she managed it.

When she was finished, she realized one mistake she'd made. She had washed everything, and she was now stuck wearing nothing but that towel. That… was not convenient.

If she was very quiet, she could hear dishes clinking in the kitchen, so she knew Rumplestiltskin was downstairs, probably making her tea… no, supper. She had to get used to these new words.

On bare feet, she crept out into the hallway, feeling a little like a naughty child. His bedroom was downstairs, probably convenient for the sake of his bad leg. She crouched behind the railing and waited until he'd disappeared into a back room somewhere before scurrying down the stairs into his room. It smelled of him, bay rum cologne, and was considerably less dusty than much of the rest of the place. In a large armoire, she found several pairs of men's pyjamas, cotton so smooth and fine it felt like silk. Of all the improvements Mr. Gold had over the old Rumplestiltskin, his fashion sense had to be near the top.

"Belle?"

Gasping, she dropped the garments she'd been holding and spun towards the door. He was standing there, face taut. Was he angry? Did he already know?

"I needed something to wear," she said quickly.

He seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes on hers. "Was nothing I brought you suitable?"

Ogres, she was feeling stupider by the moment. "It's all wet."

"All of it?"

"Well… it all smelled like plastic and I don't like the smell of plastic so I washed it." The words came out in a jumbled rush.

"Where?"

"In the bathtub."

A muscle twitched on his cheek. "I have a wash machine."

"A what?"

He closed his eyes and turned away, but not before she saw his smirk. "Another of the conveniences of this world. I'll show you later. In the meantime, feel free to borrow some of my clothes, whatever you'd like. If your feet are cold, there are some warm socks in the top drawer there, by the way."

Was it possible for someone to die of embarrassment? If so, she was in grave danger. But she held her head high. "Thank you, Rumple."

"You're welcome, my dear. I'll ah… leave you to it, then." He bowed out of the room and shut the door, leaving her to her own idiocy.

An ogre's festering nut, what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? Belle, standing in his bedroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel, eyes wide as she tried to logically explain washing clothes in a bathtub. It had taken every bit of self-restraint he had not to throw her on the bed right there and have his way, especially since he knew she'd likely not protest the whole endeavour. He knew she wanted him.

However, he had his pride. He had every intention of seducing Belle, but that was what it was going to be. He was going to court her, woo her, slowly and gently seduce her the way she deserved, not simply toss her down and rut like an animal. Her initiation into the art of love would be exquisite… nothing less than perfection would do. And, as he'd learned in his very long lifetime, perfection could not be rushed.

Washing clothes in a bathtub! Sure, she'd been taking a long time up there, and he'd been rather uncomfortable, wandering around his kitchen trying not to picture her naked body in the water, but he hadn't imagined that she'd been up to_ that_, of all things.

Yes, life with Belle was going to be interesting.

Rumplestiltskin went back to the kitchen and put the water on to boil. He set out the plate of fruit he'd prepared, along with some soft bread and cheese. He briefly considered wine, then dismissed the idea, knowing that he, too, was tired, and that a glass of wine might just put him to sleep. And tonight, whatever did or did not happen, he did not intend to be the first one to visit the land of Morpheus.

It didn't take long for her to come out, looking all too adorable in his pyjamas, which, though tailored perfectly for his body, hung too loose and too long on her smaller frame. She'd tied her damp curls at the nape of her neck with one of his pocket squares, a use which would probably destroy the fine silk, but he bit his tongue at protesting. She could burn all his damned clothes if she wanted to. And then he could burn hers, and they could just stay in this house together, naked….

Rumplestiltskin quickly moved to stand behind the kitchen chair, where his lap was neatly hidden.

_Mountain ogre. Shitting mountain ogre_.

"Your feast awaits, my lady."

Though he meant the comment tongue in cheek, there was real delight on Belle's face as she examined the laid-out table. "Grapes!" she exclaimed, picking up a small bunch. "Oh, I haven't had these since… I don't even remember! And pears… and what are these?"

"Bananas."

"They look like yellow smiles."

Only his Belle would ever think to make such a comparison. Rumplestiltskin sat, and peeled one for her. "Try it out, love."

Belle liked the banana. And the cheese, which she declared she hadn't tasted for ages, and the particular blend of tea he'd chosen. It was both beautiful and painful to watch her eat, watch her lovely face light up at each new taste and texture, every bit of her joy reminding him of the years she'd suffered because of his cruel pride. How many times in his life had he let one moment of foolishness cause someone else untold pain? How could she still come back to him after that? He really was the luckiest bastard alive. "I love you, Belle," he said.

She slowly set down her teacup, frowning. "And I love you."

He squeezed her hand. "Good. And… and I'm glad you're here. I want very much for you to be happy."

"I'm sure I can be… with you. If…."

Though she didn't finish the sentence, he knew. If he changed his ways. He cleared his throat. "I'll do my best, darling," he said, and in that moment, he meant it, with every bit of his small and damaged heart.

Not all of the housekeeper had been drummed out of Belle in her years away, because as soon as she was done eating, she insisted upon helping him clean things up. Then, there was nothing to do but….

"Bed," Rumplestiltskin said, because one of them had to say it.

Belle nodded. Her face was very pale. "I-I don't want to sleep by myself. We don't have to-to… do anything if you don't want to, but I've been so alone for so very long and even though that bedroom upstairs you showed me is beautiful, I just can't bear the thought of being in there alone. Not tonight."

_If he didn't want to?_ Well, he wasn't gay, and he wasn't a eunuch, and for the past forty-five minutes he'd been sitting at a table, well aware that the beloved woman not three feet from him wasn't wearing a stitch of undergarments. There was no _not wanting to_ about it. The fact that she was naked beneath _his_ pyjamas just added to the erotic appeal. "There's no place I'd rather have you than by my side," he murmured, gallantly pressing his lips to the back of her hand. _Or on top of me_. _Or beneath me_. _Or…._

_Slow down, Rumple, old boy_. _Mountain ogre_. _Mountain troll_. _Regina fucking a mountain troll_.

That took the edge off, at least for the moment. "Come on, then, love," he said, taking her trembling hand in his. "Let's go to bed."

The more time she spent in Rumplestiltskin's bedroom, the more Belle knew it was where she wanted to spend forever. Everything, from the dusty rose wallpaper, to the soft gold coverlet, just felt more like home than any place she'd ever been before. She sat on that bed, nervously threading the sheets through her fingers while she waited for him to change into his nightclothes. She still didn't know if he planned to make love to her tonight or not. She still didn't know if she wanted him to. The food had given her energy, to be sure, but the emotions of the day were heavy upon her, and she still hadn't decided how to tell him the biggest thing. Or if she was going to tell him at all.

Maybe it might be best if they slept, and waited.

Rumplestiltskin came out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of grey pajamas identical in style to her blue ones. She laughed, and he smiled. "A matched pair, are we?"

"It looks that way." He set aside his cane and sat on the bed beside her. "I do have to say, though, you do bring a certain appeal to those garments that I never did."

He was so close, and he smelled so beautiful, of musk and man and his bay rum, she felt the heat through her whole body, from the tips of her toes to the tips of her breasts to the tips of her fingers. Surely, she was blushing, but she didn't care. As if compelled by magic, she reached up to take his face between her palms, bringing him to her for a kiss. Fairies, he tasted as good as he smelled, and his lips were so perfect, moved so beautifully, she might have died happy right then and there. But she wanted more. She rose to her knees and turned, climbing onto his lap, wrapping her legs round his hips, taking control of their embrace for the first time. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel, for the first time, the hard flesh between them.

At the first brush, Belle flinched, but tried to ignore the treasonous thoughts rising up, and just focus on kissing the man she loved. But then he rocked them both, pressing his erection more firmly into the notch of her body.

"I love you so much," he murmured, as he trailed moist kisses down her neck. Slowly, carefully, he lifted her from his lap and helped her stretch across the bed, lying down beside her. "Tonight is about you, my love. The only thing I want, the only thing I care about, is that you feel pleasure. If there's something you wish, only tell me and you will have it. I know the first time can be frightening, but I promise that I will do my best not to hurt you, and if there's something you don't like, or you're not comfortable with in any way, just tell me and I will cease immediately." He brushed his lips against hers. "I want this to be perfect for you, Belle."

Tears stung the back of her eyes. Damn it, why now, of all times, did he have to turn from a sinfully sexy, but selfish bastard into a sinfully sexy, totally considerate human being? How could she deceive him, when he was being so wonderful to her…?

With graceful fingers, he flicked open the first few buttons of her pyjama shirt, then leaned down to run his tongue along her exposed collarbone. The sensation shot all the way through her, to her hardened nipples, to the growing heat at her core. _This_ was what it was supposed to feel like? _Oh!_ He captured her mouth with his, and rested a palm on her breast, and she thought she might fly apart right out of her body.

It felt so good, but no! "No!" she cried, as she rolled away from him, right onto the floor, landing in an undignified heap on the rug.

She heard his gasp of alarm. "Belle?"

Quickly, she sat and looked over the edge of the bed, to see Rumplestiltskin's horrified face. "I'm all right." She scrambled back up, being sure to sit as far away from him as she could. "But we can't do this. It's not right."

"Fuck." The word was softly spoken, but she heard it, and she didn't blame him. For her to have lead him this far, then to pull back was downright nasty. She may not be a hardened courtesan, but she understood something of the courtesies of the mating ritual.

"I'm sorry," she said, and watched as he pushed himself into a sitting position, back against the headboard, knees drawn up.

He looked at her with wary eyes. "What's going on, Belle?" Though there was no anger in his tone, there was also no room for refusal.

She grabbed a pillow to hold against herself, another barrier between them. "I haven't been honest with you. I thought I could just… do it and not tell you, but that's not right, and I can't start our life together with a lie... it would destroy whatever happiness we could have."

He said nothing, but arched a brow, obviously waiting for her to continue.

"After I left your castle… before Regina had me abducted, I spent some time in a little town. There was a young man there, no more than a boy, really, and he was about to go off and join the army. He was afraid he would die fighting, and he didn't want to die without ever having lain with a woman."

Rumplestiltskin's eyes grew very hard. "So he took advantage of you?"

"No, not at all. I… I was willing." She looked down at the coverlet, unable to meet his gaze as she confessed this part of her tale. "You see, I was very angry with you for throwing my love back at me. And I've always been one to believe that I'm in control of my own fate, so I decided I would be in control of my virginity as well. So we spent several nights together."

"And that was that?"

Still unable to look, Belle nodded. "He went off to the army, and I was abducted. I don't know what happened to him." Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. "I don't even remember his name."

She felt firm fingertips on her chin, urging her to look upward. "Yet you were in love with him?" He was leaning across the bed, reaching out to her, eyes searching her face.

"Of course not!" The thought hadn't ever crossed her mind. She'd tried to pretend the boy was Rumplestiltskin, but of course that hadn't worked a bit. When she looked at him, she realized he seemed remarkably calm. "How angry are you?"

He almost smiled. "To tell you the truth, Belle, I'm not sure what you're expecting me to be angry about. He didn't hurt you, so I can't be angry at him, and you didn't love him, so I can't be angry at you."

"But… but I'm not a virgin."

Rumplestiltskin leaned back against the headboard once again, and rested his arms atop his drawn-up knees. "Neither am I."

Why was he trying to make jokes? "Rumple, be serious!"

"I assure you, darling, I am quite serious. You know I have a son… whom I conceived with my wife. After I lost her and became the Dark One, there were several other women… generally manipulations, deals, that sort of thing, never with emotions attached. Although, when I was young, before I met the woman who was to be my wife, there was this dairymaid in the village. I don't remember her name, but she had the biggest…." He stopped, eyes gleaming.

Belle, still scarcely able to believe she was hearing what she was hearing, decided to play along. "Bosom, right?" She tried not to look down at her own chest, which was respectable, but by no means impressive.

Now he looked downright mirthful. "I was going to say ass, actually. It was like pushing against a pair of jelly sacks."

"Her ass," Belle echoed, mind spinning.

"She was bent over the butter churn."

"The butter churn."

"Does that horrify you?" He was smiling gently, and she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be horrified or not. She was simply confused. How, precisely, did that work? And what the hell was he trying to do?

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say here, Rumple."

"Simply this." He took her hand and tugged, until she scooted across the bed and sat on her knees right in front of him. "When I married, I was put out to find out my wife wasn't a virgin, my adventure with the dairymaid notwithstanding. Then Milha asked me what I thought was so bloody important about my prick that it would fundamentally change who she was as a woman. And I didn't have an answer for her." He looked as unguarded, as genuine, as she'd ever seen him, and it turned Belle's heart right over.

"I think Gaston thought his… prick" (even saying the word made her blush) "was that important," she said. "Before our betrothal, he insisted that the midwife from _his_ village examine me, to make sure my maidenhead was still intact."

Rumplestiltskin laughed, and urged her closer still. "There might be some satisfaction for those who only lie with their first and forever love, but alas, you and I are beyond that possibility. And I promise you, sweet Belle, we shall find happiness nonetheless. And… satisfaction." With those words, he began to unbutton her pyjama shirt again, the cool air sensuous against her already-overheated skin.

The relief surging through her overpowered the eroticism, but only for a moment. Belle gasped as the heat began once again, that slow, luxurious swirl of feeling that seemed to pool and linger in all the parts of her body she'd been long trained to protect. "So you don't mind," she whispered, needing to hear it one more time, just for confirmation.

"Well, my darling, I'm hoping I compare favorably to your other experience, but in theory… no, I don't mind." Rumplestiltskin pushed the shirt from her shoulders, leaving her upper half bare. It was rather fascinating to watch his face as he looked at her breasts for the first time… not the slobbery, fearful greed of the army boy, but a lovely mixture of… adoration, hunger, the sort of absolute certain confidence of a man who was with the woman he loved and who loved him back.

She giggled. "That shouldn't be hard at all. It was a dreadful disappointment… awkward and uncomfortable, and all I could do was think about you, and how it was nothing like I imagined you would be. And hope it would be over quickly. Which it was."

Rumplestiltskin unbuttoned his own shirt, and tossed it away, revealing smooth, well-preserved muscles. "And how did you imagine I would be, if I took you to my bed?"

Belle could feel the blush rise, right over her exposed breasts and everywhere else. "Sort of like the way you were when you were spinning, or did magic… confident… masterful…."

"_Masterful_?" He threw his head back and laughed, a high, strange sound that almost reminded her of the Dark One from the castle, which only served to arouse her further. "That's setting the bar rather high, isn't it?"

Belle gathered her courage and flashed him what she hoped was a very sexy smile. "I think you can manage it." She pushed the heavy coverlet off the bed and stretched out, reaching up for him. "Care to give it a try?"

"Hell, yes," he growled, and then he was on top of her, kissing and caressing. His hands were masterfully quick, as he tugged her pants off, then his own, and she was pleased to see that he, too, was wearing nothing beneath them. By the fairies, it felt so good to be naked with him, gasping, twining her hands in his long hair as he nibbled his way down her chest, then finally, finally closing his mouth over one aching nipple.

Belle felt the spurt of sensation all the way through her torso right to the place where she was getting hotter and wetter. As much as she wanted to just lose herself, that part of her brain that always thought too much was taking over, and she began cataloguing things, bit by bit. She didn't feel nervous or guilty, like she had with the boy, and there was nothing awkward in the way Rumplestiltskin touched her… it was like his hands and mouth just knew precisely what would feel best, where would bring her the most pleasure. Her nipples. A little spot at the side of her neck. Even the crook of her elbow. Everything sent surges of liquid heat through her body, each touch more lovely than the last, drawing it all in to some sort of glowing point….

Right down there. Right where he hadn't touched her. She wanted, _needed_ something so bad it was starting to hurt, but his beautiful hands kept skimming over her body, every place but there.

A dreadful thought swirled through her mind. What if this was why some women didn't like sex? What if this painful frustration was inevitable? She'd felt it a bit that other time, but when the boy had put his manhood inside of her, she'd thought it would be relieved. She'd been disappointed; but it had hurt, and the whole thing had been over so quickly, every time, it hadn't made a lick of difference. She forced the unpleasant thoughts away. She loved Rumplestiltskin, and if this made him happy, well, she would enjoy what she could of it and do her best to bring him pleasure. She steeled herself and closed her eyes.

"Belle…."

"I love you, Rumple," she murmured.

He gave her a small shake. "Belle, look at me."

She did, right into his darkened eyes.

"Stay with me, Belle. What's happening, here?"

"I don't know what I need," she said, before she could stop herself. "I… everything feels… I don't know… I need something, but…."

To her surprise, he smiled gently and kissed her again. "Please trust me my love, I know just what you need. Just relax and stay with me, here."

Belle kept her eyes open, locked with his, as the hand on her hip moved slowly down between her legs, right where her entire world seemed to be throbbing. His fingers, unerringly, masterfully, found exactly the right spots and began to move, pushing the heat even higher, that feeling so strong she thought it might tear her apart. She whimpered.

"Stay with me, Belle. Just focus on what you're feeling."

As if she could think about anything else. Was this natural? Was this even possible, this powerful, pressing heat coiling beneath his hand, drawing every part of herself there, in shards of ice and fire, from her toes upwards, down her spine, even the tips of her fingers.

"Rumple… Rumple…."

And then….

_Oh_.

There it was, bursting, swirling, lifting her right off the bed and out of her own mind, everything she'd ever thought, wanted, or felt, splintering her body and soul into ecstatic shreds, leaving her a puddle of boneless joy.

It might have been a lifetime before her mind felt whole again, and she remembered who she was and where she was and why she was lying, naked, wet, and trembling, in the arms of the man she loved who might very well be a monster. "You really are a sorcerer," she murmured. "That must have been magic."

He laughed, and kissed her sweaty forehead. "Actually, my darling, that's one of the few things I can do that requires absolutely no supernatural skill."

"So you say." She drew him closer, feeling the hard flesh of his erection against her hip. "That was most definitely masterful, though. And I don't believe we're finished."

"No, we are not." Rumplestiltskin grabbed a pillow, lifted her hips, and fitted it beneath her.

"What's that for?"

"It'll feel better. Trust me."

After what he'd just done for her, Belle was certainly willing to do that, and when he entered her, thick and hard, the feeling was so exquisite, she didn't know how she could ever doubt him. Acting on instinct, she wrapped her legs about his waist, and by his grunt of satisfaction, she decided she'd done the right thing. He began to move, and it began again, not as hot or crazy, but there nonetheless, and before she knew it, she was going back over the edge, crying out and clinging to him, and feeling him shudder as he, too, reached his peak. The boy had left her body before spilling his seed, and Belle had been too embarrassed to ask why, but she was glad to hug her beloved closer as he emptied right into her body. Even that rush of wet heat was pleasure, and she held him as tightly as she could, savoring every bit of it.

After that second burst, she really was too exhausted to move. She closed her eyes. She didn't open them again until she felt Rumplestiltskin's hand on her thigh, and she realized, to her humiliation, that he was cleaning her with a warm cloth.

"Hush," he said, before she could protest. "This will make you more comfortable."

Belle had to admit, the idea of going to sleep with his seed on her thighs didn't seem pleasant, so she kept silent. Soon, he was back in bed beside her, arms around her, and she could finally do what she'd once thought she'd never be able to do, fall asleep snuggled against her lover's chest.


	4. We are Both

_To any readers from the East Coast - I hope and pray you're safe and sound and dry. Please know that the hearts and minds of the world are with you right now, wishing you the very best in these difficult times.  
_

_Since I've been getting messages asking about what I'm actually doing, I'll endeavor to explain. This fic is my take on what I consider the best part of Season 2 of the show. I'll be including all scenes of Belle and Rumplestiltskin from Storybrooke that appear in each episode, and building the story around that. So it will be the Rumbelle from the show, but much more than that, as I have my own ideas about what's driving the characters, and what might be happening that we don't get to see. (Since it's a family show there's a great deal that we don't get to see, after all!) As more episodes air on TV, perhaps some of my guesses will be proven to be mistakes; I don't know. But I will endeavor to mirror the canonical content, at least as well as I am able. It's a fun, relaxing project for me, and will hopefully make the Rumbelle element of the show a slightly richer experience for fans, as I am observing that Belle could use a LOT more airtime than she's getting.  
_

_I'm hoping that before Christmas I'll be caught up to where the episodes are actually airing, but the fic won't be finished until the season is finished. Thanks for the kind commentary as well as the constructive criticism, and I hope you enjoy this next portion of the story!  
_

**Chapter 3 – We are Both**

**or  
**

**_A Great Deal of Study_  
**

_Belle_

Belle woke in the silence of the night, a vague ache between her thighs and a fierce joy in her heart. She was free. She remembered who she was. And she was where she belonged, in the arms, and the bed, of the man she loved.

The man who was, at this moment, lying asleep next to her, his face serene and oddly innocent while at rest. She wasn't fooled, of course. She knew that, in spite of the love he'd shown her, and what they'd shared, there was still terrible darkness within him, darkness that would take time and love and hard work to overcome. But she had to believe it could, and would be overcome. Otherwise she might as well be in the asylum, not remembering a thing, because loving him and knowing she could never be with him was just too painful.

She slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom, not realizing until she got there that it wasn't just her feet, but her whole body that was bare. It felt rather awkward, so after she was done, she found the pajama shirt she'd discarded sometime in the night and slipped it back on before she sat on the bed to watch him sleep. She didn't bother with the pants. She wasn't sure how often men and women were supposed to make love, but if Rumplestiltskin was willing, she'd be glad for another round before the night was out. If that happened, the shirt would have to go too, but at least she wouldn't feel so strange while she waited.

But, on the other hand, perhaps he needed his rest. He wasn't young, and as much as she'd just discovered could be said for a man of maturity in the bedroom, she couldn't expect him to have the energy of youth anymore. Perhaps she should just go back to sleep.

"Dare I even ask what's going on in that mind of yours, my love?"

The sound of his drawl – even rough from sleep – was startling, and she yelped, tumbling yet again from the bed. She rolled as she fell this time, a little less painful, just as undignified. At least he kept a soft rug on this floor.

"Good bloody grief."

Before Belle could wrap her mind around what was happening, she felt a pair of strong hands wrap round her ribcage, and she was boosted back up onto the bed. Rumplestiltskin stroked her head, and she felt a brief flash of heat where she thought she might have struck it, but there was no pain. "Do I need to get rails for this thing?"

She might have been utterly mortified, but for the gentle teasing of his tone. "You just surprised me, that's all. I didn't realize you were awake."

"Well, one side of the bed suddenly got rather cold, you see."

Belle might have spent the last three decades in loneliness, but she could take a hint. She snuggled up next to him, slightly shocked to realize he was still completely naked, and seemed utterly comfortable that way. "Better?"

"Much." He kissed her forehead. "Though you still haven't answered my question."

Belle ran a tentative hand over the flat, hard muscles of his chest and belly, careful not to drop so low as to accidentally touch that part of him she wasn't so sure about. "I was wondering how tired you were," she said, trying to hedge around the subject. She'd been a bit brazen last night, insisting she share his bed, and even though he'd been remarkably calm about her lack of virginity, she didn't want him to think her some sort of wanton.

"Really? I'd have thought you'd be wondering about _this_." He grasped her hand and pulled it down lower, to wrap around the hard flesh she'd been wondering about. Yes, he seemed ready. She couldn't hide her smile.

"You could just ask, you know," he said.

Belle tightened her grip around the heavy erection in her hand, shifting ever so slightly, marveling at how the fine-textured skin seemed to move over the hard flesh beneath, like silk over steel. He trembled, but didn't seem to mind, so she tried the motion again. "I don't know much about this."

A fine sheen of sweat was beginning to glow on his forehead. "That's why you should ask." He took her hand and pulled it back.

"Was I doing it wrong?"

"Not at all, my love." His eyes gleamed. "However, I suspect you want this to last, and if you persist, it won't."

Her cheeks grew hot, and she hoped he couldn't see her blush in the dark. "How-how often are men and women supposed to do this?"

"There's no rules." Rumplestiltskin pushed the covers away, and began working at the buttons of her shirt. "As often as you want, really. Well, there are physical limitations, of course, at least for men… we need a little time to recover between bouts. But for women, I suppose you could just keep going and going, at least if you wanted to."

Keep going and going? Belle felt her eyes grow wide. "You mean I could just keep having those… bursts… over and over? As long as I wanted?"

"Orgasms," Rumplestiltskin said. "They're called orgasms. Ogres, nobody taught you anything, did they?"

"My nursemaid said she'd explain everything right before my wedding night." Belle felt herself blush once again. "I mean, I had some idea of the basics, from books… the ones I'd filched from the library, of course, the ones my father didn't think I should read… I knew what part was supposed to go where…" could her face grow any hotter? "but all the little details, I didn't understand. Even what happened before you, it was so awkward and so quick, I didn't really feel like I knew what was going on, especially since I knew I didn't love him and part of me didn't want to be there. I just wanted it over and done with. "

He helped her sit, and sat facing her, hands on her shoulders. His eyes were dark, boring right into hers. He spoke slowly. "And with me?"

"It was perfect." She leaned forward to kiss him. "It felt wonderful. I didn't know it could feel good, much less wonderful, but it did."

"Good." He pushed the fabric from her shoulders, then tossed the garment aside. "Perhaps I'll just burn all the nightclothes in this house. They're not proving useful, are they?"

Belle giggled. "But I feel strange, being naked."

He arched a brow and traced the tip of one finger down her shoulder, over her collarbone, to the hardened tip of her breast. "You feel strange?"

"Well, not right now, but when we're not… doing this… it feels strange. At the asylum, I was always careful to keep my clothes on all the time, because I never knew if someone was watching me or not."

Rumplestiltskin smiled and continued to caress her breast. "Well, in this house, I shall be the only one looking."

"Perhaps I could get used to that."

"I certainly hope so." With that, he urged her to his lap, arranging her like she'd been earlier that night, legs wrapped round his waist. It was nice to kiss him like this, her head being a little higher than his, so she could feel strong and in control, and enjoy running her hands through his long, silky hair. His hands felt so lovely, stroking over her back and bottom, setting little fires everywhere they touched, fires that grew ever hotter as he reached between them to caress her core. Her head grew heavy, and she let it fall back, even enjoying the sensation of her own hair against her bare skin.

"Rumple," she murmured, as he nibbled his way down her throat.

"Yes, my love?"

"Can we… like this?"

He paused, and his mouth left her skin. "Of course. Would you like to try?"

Embarrassed again at her lack of knowledge, Belle lifted her head to look at him. "In the books… it seemed like there were different ways of doing it, but in practice… I thought there might be just the one."

His face went completely blank for a moment, then he chuckled. "Basically any way you can line up the right parts, it can be done. Either person on top, lying on our sides, or I could take you from behind…." He slipped a hand over her bare buttock, between her legs, and stroked her from that angle, effectively illustrating his point. Belle gasped at the fresh surge of heat.

"Oh… now the story about the dairymaid and the butter churn makes sense."

Rumplestiltskin threw back his head and laughed, and Belle ceased to be embarrassed, somehow knowing that he wasn't mocking her, but was rather endeared by her. She reached between them and grasped his… _cock_… yes, she could think the word, even if she couldn't say it… and worked her way onto it, shocked, for a moment, at how tight things seemed to be. Why wouldn't it fit? But then he grasped her hips and shifted his own, and she was sliding down onto him, her muscles stretching deliciously. Another shift, another thrust, and he was all the way inside of her, and her entire body was trembling. It was so beautiful, to be here like this with him, joined with him in this most intimate way, actually taking a part of his body inside of hers.

"Belle…."

She stroked his hair and kept her eyes on his. "This is perfect, isn't it? The most perfect feeling in the world."

"Quite possibly." He kissed her collarbone, then the sensitive place by her neck. "Just follow me, all right, darling? And stay with me." Then he began to move.

It all felt different, her being on top, the feelings inside her stronger and more intense, the shock waves gathering even deeper than they had before. Belle tangled her fingers through Rumplestiltskin's hair as she followed him, moving her hips the way he showed her, rocking back and forth. Every motion drew the sensations higher, curled tight within her, deep chills shuddering up and down her back, until she heard herself whimpering and couldn't stop it. She didn't care. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. Everything, her whole world, was coiling tighter and tighter inside her pelvis….

"Let it go, darling."

His softly whispered words were enough and she burst, nerves shattering, shock waves surging through her entire body until she'd ceased to think or breathe. She heard him cry out too, and collapsed against his chest, hoping he could hold them both.

They spent the afterglow cuddled together in bed, under the warmth of the blankets. "It felt different this time," Belle murmured, tracing patterns on his bare chest with her fingertips. "Not good or bad different, just… different. Is it different every time?"

She felt his body shake a little, and wondered if he was laughing. "I suppose a little. Depending on what position you use… it feels different. That's why some people like some better than others. One of the advantages of this world is that there's been a great deal of study done on the topic… there's a book in my study, if you're interested in reading it."

A book? For a moment, Belle wanted to jump right out of bed, but she knew that would be a little strange, so she snuggled closer to him instead. "What's your favourite?" she asked.

"My favourite what?"

"Position. For making love."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he kissed the top of her head. "Any way I can do it with you."

"Rumple… I'm serious."

"So am I."

So Belle had to be content with that. And she was. She closed her eyes, thinking about other positions she and Rumplestiltskin could try, and wondering just what this elusive book might have to say on the matter. They would have forever to figure it all out, so she fell asleep knowing this, very happy.

* * *

_Rumplestiltskin_

It had been, by far, the most beautiful night of his very long life. Surreal, really, to have this time with his beloved Belle, to share his bed and his body and his heart, even if would only be for these scant hours. Part of him was tempted to stay a few days, as he'd originally planned, but he knew if he did that, he might lose his courage completely, and never go at all. Though, if his plans went well, there very well could be many more such ecstatic nights in their future. But it that was far from a guarantee.

With a heavy heart, Rumplestiltskin eased himself from the bed, and left his sleeping lover there, bathed in the first pink light of dawn, while he showered and prepared himself for the day. He selected his finest three-piece suit, precisely matched silk tie and pocket square, as if he might really find him today, as if it really mattered what he was wearing when his son saw him again, but somehow it did. Bae needed to know that his papa was no longer a madman, but a respectable gentleman, a father anyone could be proud of.

He went upstairs and found her clothes hanging all over the bathroom there, now dry, and chuckled again, at the image of her washing them in the bathtub. As soon as possible, they'd have to have a few lessons about how to use some of these modern conveniences. He chose a set of lace underclothes the exact blue of her eyes, and a dark green dress with a skirt so short it caused him even more second thoughts over what he was about to do.

After leaving the clothes in his bedroom, where she still slept, he headed to the kitchen to sit and wait. When he heard her stirring about the bedroom, he started the kettle and prepared tea, the same blend she'd enjoyed so much last night. He set out a show of breakfast, though he knew his churning stomach would accept no sustenance.

It took no more than a wave of his hand to summon the bottle he knew would do the job. He'd kept it in the basement, where he kept all of his supplies, though it would not have been of use until he'd brought magic to Storybrooke. Now that it was here….

As soon as he held the little bottle in his hand, he could feel the power, and he knew that it was as potent as it had ever been. He added a pinch to Belle's teacup, just enough that he would be able to control it, even from a distance. _It's better this way_, he told himself, yet again. She wouldn't understand.

He got the bottle put away just moments before she came drifting into the kitchen, more beautiful than any princess in her little green frock. She greeted him with a sunny smile and a passionate embrace, and, for a moment, lost in the haze of her kiss, he forgot why he was going through with his plans at all.

When he could take no more, he eased back. "Sit, darling. I've made tea."

"Thank you." She perched on a chair, crossing those magnificent legs, most of which were bared from that short skirt, and Rumplestiltskin nearly lost his balance, cane be damned.

_Regina. Ogre. Troll. Regina_.

If that arrogant bitch knew how useful she was in cooling his ardor, she'd probably sprout snakes from her head.

"My darling, I won't be able to spend the day with you. There's bound to be much happening in town, with magic coming back and everything, and I must go to the shop and see where things stand." At the flare of suspicion in her eyes, he quickly added, "and offer assistance where I may. I would assume the prince has taken upon himself the mantle of leadership, but there will be things he needs to know, and I can tell him. Make the transition easier."

Belle nodded slowly. "I don't know the prince, is he a good man?"

"Very much so. You might like to know… one of the few good things I've done in my life is to assist him in reuniting with the love of his life after Regina separated them." His own part of that separation he didn't care to mention. He was pleased to see Belle smile, and look at him with that love and adoration he knew he didn't deserve, but craved nonetheless.

"See, you're not totally a monster."

"Perhaps not." _But probably_. He poured Belle's tea and brought her the cup. She took a sip without the least bit of suspicion, which made the stab of built as her eyelids fluttered shut even deeper than it might have been.

"Forgive me, my love," he murmured. "But this is best."

Certain that she was fully under, he gathered his focus and used his hands to manipulate the energy in the room, gently levitating Belle up out of the chair so she was lying limp in the air in front of him. With careful maneuvers, he floated her from the kitchen back into the bedroom, and lowered her gracefully to the bed, which she'd already neatly made up. He gathered even more strength, and implanted a vague memory in her mind of being weary after breakfast, and choosing to take a nap.

With his bare hands, and no magic, he draped a blanket over her still frame. "I love you, Belle. But I must do this."

Rumplestiltskin hurried from his house before he had a chance to think about it anymore.

* * *

_Rumplestiltskin_

Well, Storybrooke had survived the night, Regina included. There wasn't much point in examining too much of the chaos, though it was interesting to note that the wolf-girl Red, or maybe she was keeping the name Ruby now, seemed to be more than just a pretty face in a short skirt. Rather, she appeared to be taking charge of the effort to get families reunited. Gepetto was hunting for his miscreant of a son (yes, Rumplestiltskin had figured it out), and the dwarves were together again, preparing to check out the town border. Strangely, or perhaps not, Regina was nowhere in sight. It took only a few well-placed questions to get caught up on town events, the good, the bad, and the downright tragic, the disappearance of Snow White and young Miss Swan being the worst of them. He could actually feel sorry for the prince, losing his family so soon after finding them again.

Rumplestiltskin didn't intend on spending more than a few minutes at his shop. The supplies he'd been collecting for his search for Bae happened to be there, and if he hadn't been so distracted by Belle last night, he might have thought to take them home with him. However, as he was working in the back, gathering things to pack, he heard a muffled curse, and someone fumbling about the front of the shop.

Of course, it had to be the bitch, fumbling frantically through stacks of books, as if she owned the place. He smiled to himself, knowing precisely what she was looking for.

"The library's beneath the clock tower. You closed it, remember? When you still had power." Ogres, it felt good to dig in that particular knife. He had a long way to go, but it did feel good to have something so substantial to lord over Regina, particularly since he wasn't allowed to kill her.

She slammed a volume down onto the counter. "I need the book. I need to get myself back."

Oh, he was certain she did. But a Storybrooke where Regina had magical powers… perhaps that wasn't such a good idea, especially considering Belle was there. "Which book? Oh!" he laughed. "So it's come down to that, eh? You need your mummy's help."

The queen witch did not look amused. "I need the book," she hissed.

"Do you really need the smell of the written word to get the magic flowing again, love? Maybe if you relax it would just… happen." He knew it wouldn't, of course. Regina, though cruel, was weak at heart, and too arrogant for her own good. Once upon a time, he'd done his best to train her up properly, but she couldn't see past her own pride enough to out-think him, except that one unfortunate time, a time for which he still intended to see that she paid dearly.

Tears welled in her soulless eyes. "I don't have time. It worked once; I know I can do it, I just… I just need a shortcut back."

Did she really think he'd be moved by that? Stupid bitch. "Yeah, well I don't have time either. Leave. _Please_."

He waited, with no small satisfaction, for the magic to do its work, and knew a small frisson of fear when Regina remained in place. Her eyes widened and she smiled. "Well, how about that? Your pleases have lost their punch."

_Fuck_. _Fucking bitch_. _Fucking, festering, ogre-spawned whore_. Rumplestiltskin wondered if he could manage to kill her and hide the body, whilst somehow convincing the town, and Belle, that she'd simply left. No, that was no good. He had to keep his word to Belle. "Well, the fact remains," he said, trying to sound calm, "jump-starting your magic is not in my best interests."

"You know what else isn't in your best interests? Having everyone know the Enchanted Forest still exists." Now she looked positively smug. "Knowing that you and I are keeping that little secret. You're up to something. And it doesn't involve going back home." She reached for the lid of the trunk, but he slammed it down. No, she was not going to interfere. Even if he had to give her what she wanted.

He gathered his energy, gave a short chop of the hand, and summoned the despised object she sought. She grabbed the book eagerly.

"Careful, dearie. These are straight-up spells. Rough on the system."

"I don't care if they turn me green," she hissed. "I'm getting my son back." She stomped towards the door.

For a flash, he almost felt pity for her, until he remembered that young Henry was not her son, nor had he ever been. She didn't know what it was to love a child, nor how it felt to know you'd utterly failed him. But no, he wasn't going to let her play on his sympathies. So he laughed. "Oh my."

Regina spun to face him, eyes on fire. "What?"

"It's just holding that…" he pointed at the book "I told you once you didn't look like her, but now… now I can see it."

Thankfully, she stormed off without another word, and he was left to ponder whether or not he should have done that. Regina with power was not a good thing. Regina with power, angry at him, could be downright unpleasant. Of course, he'd left wards guarding the house, guarding the precious woman sleeping within, but perhaps he should return and cast stronger ones. He'd do it on the way out of town, he decided, and continued his preparations.

The last items to pack, not quite the most valuable, but essential nonetheless, were a series of maps. In the enchanted forest he'd never had need for such things, but this world was very different, and he wasn't certain how, or even if, his magic would work beyond the borders of Storybrooke. He was putting the maps into a small leather valise when he heard the front door bell jingle yet again. He groaned. "It appears that when I bought that closed sign I was just throwing my money away.

"Looks like it," the prince said, as he strode in as though he owned the place. He had the aura that a man of royalty should have, strength and confidence, but there was no missing the pain in the former David Nolan's eyes.

"Sorry about your wife and daughter," Rumplestiltskin said, and he honestly meant it. He knew the pain of watching a loved one disappear through a portal to another world, though he wasn't about to reveal that fact to Prince James. "If you're looking for a retrieval, I'm afraid portal-jumping is just outside my purview."

"Of course it is."

How different life would be, if it weren't. It physically hurt to think about that. So he focused on the prince, and tried to find something neutral to discuss. "So what's the commotion outside?"

"A little… stir at the border. Problem crossing the line."

Something cold stirred within Rumplestiltskin's gut. "Do tell," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

"Actually, I'm here to buy something. A way to find someone."

Why was this impertinent little bastard changing the subject? Didn't he realize that he could be turned into the flea on a troll's scrotum within the snap of the fingers? "What, like a map?"

"Something with a bit more kick. Like the ring you gave me to find Snow."

"Ah, again, magic." An ogre's diseased asshole, what the hell was all this, now? Every person in town, bitching that he'd brought magic to Storybrooke, and now they all wanted it. Hypocritical little fucks, the whole lot of them. But Rumplestiltskin liked to do business, particularly when it was with a powerful person who would make a handy ally. "Whom are you following?"

"Not telling."

If he'd cared more, he might have tried to beat it out of the prince, but the sooner this business was done, the sooner he could be on his way to finding his son. "So do you have something of theirs, this missing person?"

"Yes."

Was Prince James really that fucking obtuse? He grit his teeth and tried to remain polite. "May I see it?"

"No." Then the boy smiled, and he had the oddest feeling he might be facing a man who was almost his equal.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled, then turned to open his tin trunk of potions and removed the right one. "Pour this on the object and follow it. So simple, even David Nolan could do it."

The prince reached for the vial, but Rumplestiltskin snatched it back. He had another idea.

"What do you want?"

"Peace," Rumplestiltskin said. "Leave me alone."

Of course, the snotty little prince was too shrewd to pass that up. "What do you care what David Nolan does?"

"No, no, it's Charming I worry about. I'd like a little non-interference guarantee." If his plans went well, the prince might not be an issue. If anything at all went wrong, however, the prince could make things far, far worse.

"Fine, if you give me the same. You and I, we stay out of each other's way."

There could not be a fairer deal than that, and Rumplestiltskin was pleased to agree. "Thank you for your business." He handed over the vial, and watched the prince walk to the door. But he couldn't let him go, not without knowing. "So, ah, what happens, when you try and cross the border?"

Prince James looked genuinely sad. "You lose your memory of everything of our old lives. Looks like we're stuck here." Then he was gone.

Rumplestiltskin stood still for what might have been a moment, or might have been forever, trying to absorb the words. _Lose memory_. _Stuck here_. If he crossed the border, if he left town to look for Bae, he would no longer know who he was looking for.

Rage, scalding hot, vaulted within him, and he slammed his cane down on one counter, then another, taking great satisfaction in watching the glass shatter. What was it he'd told Regina so many times? _All magic has its price_.

He closed his eyes, remembering the surge of power he'd felt when the purple haze had risen from the well. Ogres, he'd felt so alive in that moment, so strong and powerful, as if nothing in the world could touch him. _All magic has its price_.

Was this his price? To know he was so close to finding his son, yet be helpless to do so?

With a wave of his hand, he locked the front door. Another wave took care of the shattered glass. Then he went to the back of the shop and opened his neatly-packed trunk. On top was the most important item he was to bring – Bae's ball. The vial of potion to pour atop it was right there as well. Clutching the ball, Rumplestiltskin sank to the floor and wept.

* * *

_Belle_

_ Belle was floating. She was so warm, so comfortable, light as air, in a swirl of beautiful smells and colors. Fairies, she was so happy. She was free, and she'd found her true love, and nothing could separate them again. Life was perfect._

_ But where was he? Where was she? She was floating, yes, amidst what seemed like a sea of rose petals, but where was he? She could feel him in her heart, but that bond was stretching, as though he were being pulled from her grasp. She wanted to move, to fight, but it was as though her body would not obey her thought's command. She couldn't even open her mouth to shout. So she called his name in her mind, as loud as she could._

_ Rumple! Rumple!_

_ She still didn't know where he was, so she kept calling._

* * *

_Rumplestiltskin  
_

After he'd gotten control of himself, Rumplestiltskin unpacked his trunk and burned the maps. No point in tormenting himself, not right now. He might as well go home and unravel the wards he'd set to protect Belle, and wake her out of the magical sleep he'd placed her in. One good thing, he supposed, was that he wouldn't have to explain to her why his son was there when she woke up. He'd hoped she would understand why he'd done it, but knowing her, it was more likely that she'd resent him using magic on her without her consent. Truly, this was better.

As he drove towards home, he approached the road out of town and, on a lark, turned that way. It was blessedly deserted, though he wondered how many Storybrooke residents might just take that leap to get away from the pain of what they'd lost.

He parked well back, but got out of the car and walked to the glowing orange line. He stopped just short of it, and stood, leaning lightly on his cane, gazing out at the world beyond. His son was out there somewhere. He'd be a man now, Bae would, and hopefully he'd grown up to be a better one than his father. Perhaps he even had a wife and children of his own. Grandchildren… Rumplestiltskin rather liked the thought of that. But if he crossed that line, he'd never know if he had grandchildren, never remember his son's face, never even remember his love for Belle or the sweetness they'd shared last night.

And he wouldn't feel the pain of loss.

He'd no longer miss his son. He'd no longer hate himself with every breath that he took, for failing him and driving him away. He'd no longer remember that he'd been such a miserable failure of a wife to Mihla that he'd lost her. He'd forget it all, and simply be Mr. Gold, pawnbroker. It wouldn't be a bad life. And he wouldn't have to take the risk that he might fail Belle and she would leave him again, or that he might find Bae, only to discover that the boy hated him so much he'd never forgive him. All it would take was one step.

He wanted to lift his foot, but his body would not obey his thought's command. His mind filled with Belle, with her delicate scent, with her sweet voice, with her soft hands and beautiful eyes. She was the only person in the world who might actually need him, at least for a little while. Abandoning her now would surely be failing her, even if he would not know he'd done so. He couldn't do that to her.

So he drove home, mind spinning new plans. Bae might forgive him. He'd been working so very long on that hope, he had to keep going. He had magic now, and the means to use it. Surely this curse could be broken. He could enjoy this time with Belle, get to know her once again, teach her both the mundane arts of functioning in this society and the exquisite arts of pleasure in the bedroom, and at the same time, work on breaking the curse. He'd come this far. He could keep going.

* * *

_Belle_

Belle didn't know how long she'd been calling to Rumplestiltskin in her mind, but somehow, the world blurred into nothing, and then she came back to herself, breathing real air, feeling the bed beneath her, seeing him above her, feeling his hands grasping hers, hearing his beloved voice.

"I'm here, my darling. Wake it up, now."

She reached a trembling hand to touch his beloved face. "I must have slept."

"You've had a rough time of it. You needed rest."

"I think I had a bad dream. You weren't there." She continued to touch his face, desperate to reassure herself that he was, indeed, here, and that she wasn't dreaming.

"But I am here, my love. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Then his lips were on hers, and his tongue was touching hers, and her fingers were tangling in his hair, drawing him closer. She fumbled for his necktie, and managed to loosen it enough to tug it over his head. She paused for a moment, wondering if he'd be repulsed by her boldness, but his hands were moving so quickly, unfastening her garments and his own, stroking her, adoring her, pleasing her. Unsure of what to do in the face of such determined passion, Belle decided to just relax and enjoy the ride. She wrapped her arms around him and murmured her encouragement, pushing away that little portion of her mind that wondered what, precisely, had made him so frantic.


	5. Between We are Both and Lady of the Lake

****_A short one this time, but it should be enough to get everyone by until the next chapter. Since neither Rumplestiltskin nor Belle appears in Lady of the Lake, the whole thing is my own imagination, so I've been having some fun... _

**Chapter 4 - Between We are Both and Lady of the Lake**

_**or  
**_

**_A Rather Beguiling Sight_  
**

_Belle_

While Rumplestiltskin slept, Belle lay next to him, too sated to move. By the fairies, how had she lived without this for so long? As a girl, having forbidden fantasies about what happened between lovers, she'd not imagined anything like this… the intimacy, the intensity, the profound connection that could exist between two people who truly loved one another. She hadn't imagined that it could feel so different, yet so wonderful every time. This afternoon, he'd been frenetic, rough, deliciously so, and she'd gloried in every sensation. It had been the first time Rumplestiltskin had really lost control with her, and rather than being frightened, she had felt so strong, so sexy and desirable, the horrible years of captivity hadn't seemed to exist at all. She'd felt like a real woman. Real and whole and loved by a singularly magnificent man.

A singularly magnificent man who was, at present, snoring as he slept, looking innocent and vulnerable as a child. Belle smiled as she brushed back a strand of his hair. Surely, the Dark One had never allowed anyone but her to see him so unguarded. That thought only made her happier, only made her love him more, for she was certain it was a sign that he was losing his darkness.

Belle shifted position and gasped, realizing that certain muscles were not just vaguely sore, as they'd been during the night, but downright aching now. Well, it made sense. She'd been doing things she'd only done a few times before, a long time ago, and never with such… vigor. Or frequency. Three times now, they'd made love, in less than twenty-four hours. If Rumplestiltskin intended to keep up this pace… well, she'd be satisfied, no doubt, but might possibly be unable to walk.

A hot bath, that would be just the thing. Belle slipped from the bed and crept upstairs, this time naked as a hen's egg and not so uncomfortable about it. This was her home, shared with the man she loved. It was utterly private, and she should be free.

She smiled to note that all of her pretty new things were now neatly folded on the bed of the blue and yellow room. Surely he meant for her to bring them downstairs, and put them away in their bedroom. That could be a task for later. And, of course, to learn how to use this 'wash machine' that apparently laundered clothes without the need for a tub. Oh, there was so much to learn. But she knew she was up to the task.

Belle set the water to running, and made her way over to what he'd called his office, a room she intended to thoroughly explore at the soonest possible convenience. It, like everything else, was dusty, but there was a whole wall of shelves and a wealth of books, some thick and leather-bound, looking like they were from their old land, and some bound in paper, obviously from this modern place. She scanned the spines, looking for an interesting title, and soon found one – _the Joy of Sex_. Well, Rumplestiltskin had told her he owned a manual on that particular art. Perhaps a quick read would put rest to some of the burning questions in her mind. The next title was _Mastering the Art of French Cooking_, and Belle took that one too. She would have to make herself useful here, and cooking was a skill she could easily improve upon. She wasn't certain what 'French' was, though she'd gathered at the hospital that it might be some sort of ethnicity or nationality, but nonetheless, she would read the book. She intended to leave with just those two volumes, but she couldn't resist looking at just a few more. Some just seemed so exciting – _the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe!_ What an adventure that must be! She added it to the pile.

Oh, it seemed to never end! A divine comedy, comparisons of virtues such as pride and prejudice, sense and sensibility… even a whole series about a ring! Belle was puzzling over a particular title when she heard a soft chuckle.

Heat flared in her cheeks when she realized that she was still stark naked, standing among his books.

But Rumplestiltskin's eyes were gleaming as he stood there, impeccably attired in trousers and a shirt. "Now that's a rather beguiling sight. Am I to assume you intended to bathe, but forgot yourself?"

Belle gasped. "The water!"

"Has been turned off. Blessedly before the tub overflowed. What is it that fascinated you so?"

She held up the book she'd been examining. "What's a hobbit?"

"A halfling creature… a bit like a small dwarf, though with very different habits. They do not exist in this realm."

"Yet someone wrote about them?"

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "One thing this world does not lack is great imagination. Now, my love, do you intend to take your bath at some point, or are you going to just let the water grow cold?"

A hot bath did sound lovely, but oh, the books… Belle cast one more longing look at the shelves. She felt her blush deepen as she realized that her lover still stood there watching her, smiling. "Take your time deciding," he said. "The view is particularly fetching from here."

Belle glanced around for something to cover herself, but aside from a few books, there wasn't much handy. Surely, though, there wasn't much point in being embarrassed at him seeing her naked, considering all they'd done together. That huge tub would be comfortable, she knew, and would ease the ache in her body. Then she remembered what she'd thought about last night, when she'd relaxed in the steaming water.

"You know, that tub is big enough for two."

Rumplestiltskin arched a brow. "So it is. May I take that as an invitation to join you?"

"If you like."

The bathroom was deliciously warm, filled with inviting steam. There were several bottles of oils on the shelf beside the tub. Belle let him hold her hand as she stepped into the water, trying to suppress her wince as her sore muscles protested the movement. But his eyes were sharp. "You're sore?"

"It's nothing." She sank into the heat with a hiss of relief. It really did feel lovely.

With graceful, unhurried fingers he undressed, and she watched without shame, fascinated at every inch of smooth skin and flat, hard muscle that was exposed. He was, for the first time she'd seen, not erect, and she was rather relieved. As much pleasure as that part of his anatomy gave her, she just wasn't up for it at the moment.

"You keep staring at me like that, my dear, things could change in quite a hurry."

Belle blushed and looked down, keeping her gaze directed at the water and her own bare legs as he eased in behind her. She shifted slightly to give him space, and was glad to ease her back against his chest as he urged her closer to him. She closed her eyes in bliss as he brushed a kiss against her shoulder, and another at the side of her neck.

"I didn't realize I'd hurt you," he murmured. "I'm very sorry, Belle. I'll never lose control of myself again like that, I promise."

She laced her fingers through his, and wrapped his arm tightly around her, snuggling even closer. "But I enjoyed it so much... you must promise to do it often." She closed her eyes and indulged in her memories, the passion that darkened his eyes, the way his body had pounded so ardently into hers… fairies, it was beautiful, to be wanted and needed that way.

"Did you even come?"

"Come?"

He sighed. "Have an orgasm. I wasn't even paying attention to that… Belle, any kind of decent man always makes takes care of his lover's satisfaction. That's just what's right."

Wonderful, he was thinking about doing the right thing. He really wasn't so dark. And if he was trying to do the right thing, she certainly couldn't lie to him. "I didn't," she admitted. "But it felt wonderful nonetheless. I love… I love that you need me like that."

He was silent for a long time. "That I do, my darling. Heaven help us both."

"I think we'll be all right." She rested her head on his shoulder, and turned to kiss the base of his neck. Really, the ache in her core wasn't so bad. Perhaps a little longer in the bath, she'd feel well enough to make love again later, if they were careful about it. She shifted position slightly and felt a new, sharp ache. Perhaps not.

"Please allow me to help you, Belle." Rumplestiltskin drew in a sharp breath and pressed a hand against her lower belly. She felt a flash of heat, and then… nothing. No pain. She moved her hips, but the muscles between her legs didn't protest a bit, as if they'd never ached to begin with.

She gasped. "How did you do that?" Even as she spoke the words, she knew.

"Magic isn't all evil, you know. At times, it can prove quite helpful."

Bracing her hands on the edge of the tub, she turned herself to face him. He looked almost as vulnerable in the bath as he did in his sleep, his long hair curling, his face damp. But it was disconcerting, to know the immense power beneath that visage. "You can heal people."

He nodded calmly. "From most things. I can't actually bring back the dead, but if the heart is still beating, most injuries can be managed. A few sore muscles… that's nothing."

Belle's head was beginning to ache. She hadn't ever really considered that magic could be used for good, his help to her village during the ogre wars notwithstanding. But healing was good, wasn't it? Then something else occurred to her. With a tentative hand, she touched his scarred knee. "Can you not heal yourself?"

As soon as she said it, she wondered if it had been a mistake, for his eyes grew very dark. "I can, but I shall not."

Well, she was in now. Might as well plow ahead. "Why?"

"All magic comes with a price, my love. Before I choose to use it, I must weigh whether or not that price is worth paying or not."

"Healing me was worth the price?"

As quickly as the darkness had entered his eyes, it was gone, and he was grinning once again. "Absolutely. Now will you get back over here?"

So she twisted round again, and found herself being drawn tightly against him, her back to his chest. He reached for a bottle of oil. Belle shivered with longing as the scent of jasmine filled the air, and had to bite her lip to keep from moaning as he poured the liquid over her collarbone, and let it pool in the water. With warm, skillful hands, he caressed her, smoothing the oil over her breasts and belly, fingertips lingering over her nipples. Every stroke sent another frisson of heat through her body. In spite of herself, she gasped, and arched, and even the lapping water around her became pleasure.

Slowly, too slowly, his hand moved further down, teasing past her belly button, lingering on her hipbone, moving ever so closer to the place where she needed his touch most of all. She squirmed, trying to urge him on. "Rumple… please."

"Patience, my love." His hand stilled on her hip while the other resumed caressing her breast, and he began nibbling at her neck once again. Belle felt some of the tension fade, in a most unsatisfactory fashion, and moaned in frustration. "Patience," he said again. "Just stay still and focus on what you're feeling."

As if she could think about anything else. The oil and water had made her skin deliciously soft, and his hands glided smoothly. Even the fact that she couldn't see his face, or look into his eyes, heightened the experience somehow, as she had to rely solely on touch and hearing, instead of sight. And oh, what touch it was. His palm, stroking over one hardened nipple, then the other. His fingers digging into her hip, keeping her still when all she wanted to do was writhe. His teeth, ever so light, as they scraped against the sensitive skin of her neck. Belle bit her lip and fought to control the heat rising inside, unwilling to make another sound until he'd given her what she needed.

Then he stopped completely, and lifted her away from him. "Turn around," he said.

"What…?"

"Turn around." His voice was firm, left no room for argument, and Belle was too far gone, too desperate for release, to do anything but obey. She turned herself in the enormous tub, mind spinning far faster than her body. She hadn't realized they could make love in the water. But he'd said any way you could get the right parts lined up. But when she settled herself, knees on either side of his hips, and reached for him, she realized that his cock was still flaccid, and before she could do anything about it, he stilled her hand.

"Not this time," he whispered. He lifted her arms, and, understanding what he wanted, she grasped his shoulders, and kept her gaze locked with his, breathless with anticipation as to what he'd do next. Her entire body was a live nerve, overheated, over sensitized, quivering with need. He pulled her closer, moved one hand between them, and finally… _finally_ touched her where she needed to be touched, slipping long fingers right up into her body, moving them inside, stroking a place so sensitive she couldn't help but cry out. Then again. And again. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and when she could stand it no longer, her teeth, as he continued to stroke, bringing the tension to a place that was so unbearable she couldn't stop the sobs. Still, he continued to stroke, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything but this wonderful, terrible pleasure….

When it broke, she screamed, arching away from him, certain that this time she'd never come back down, that she'd be lost in this vortex of bursting sensation forever, but of course, that didn't happen, and eventually she came back to herself as he held her, stroking her hair and murmuring words of love. Even after her breath came back, she clung to him, needing to feel his touch, wondering if that was the way he'd felt this afternoon about her.

* * *

_Rumplestiltskin_

Rumplestiltskin prepared a simple meal of chicken salad sandwiches with fruit and tea, while Belle sat in the garden, already absorbed in a book. After their little adventure in the bathtub, she'd looked rather done in, so he'd suggested she relax and perhaps enjoy the unseasonable warmth of the evening while her hair dried.

By an ogre dam's tit, what the fuck had he been thinking, considering stepping over the town line and forgetting her? Sure, things were complicated, but how could he ever let her go, and deny himself this happiness? It wasn't just the sex, though that was bloody incredible, by far the best he'd ever had in his centuries of living. Though she was relatively inexperienced, and totally untutored in the arts of pleasing a man, every moment with Belle was pleasure. Whether it was seeing her wonder at experiencing orgasm for the first time, enjoying her clumsy first attempts at the proper motions, or trying to balance his own lust against her innocent eagerness… that was it, he realized with a smile. Belle was eager, and it was all for the right reasons. She wasn't trying to use him, she wasn't trying to manipulate him, she simply loved him and wanted to share her body with him. And although there were moments of awkwardness and embarrassment, she joyfully threw herself into their lovemaking, with every bit of her heart, and without artifice or guile. Even in the bathtub, where he'd decided to push her a little, check out how far her capacity for pleasure might go, she'd been magnificent. Though she might have attributed her earth-shaking orgasm to his skill, he knew it was her own fearlessness, her willingness to trust him without reservation, that had allowed her body to respond like that.

Damn him, he didn't deserve her. But he did love her, and he would not let her go. And it wasn't just the sex. She looked at him with such trust, such love and devotion. Oh, he knew she wasn't so delusional she thought he wouldn't fuck it up now and again, but she believed, honestly believed, that he could be a better man, and that he would try because he loved her. She did not fear him, not one little bit, and she had the stones to tease and cajole and scold him where others might flee in terror.

They could be happy together here.

They would be. He would make it so. As for his search for Bae… he would let her in on it, when the time was right. Not yet. He needed to figure out a way to explain it all to her without letting her see what a weak shell of a man he actually was.

Banishing uncomfortable thoughts, he finished assembling the supper tray, then realized, to his consternation, that it would be an awkward endeavour to get it outside manually. Fuck that cane, and the weakness that required his use of it. Well, needs were needs. Rumplestiltskin gathered energy and waved his hand, lifting the tray and floating it in front of him, out the open door to the small table in the garden. He set it down so silently that Belle, absorbed in her book, didn't even notice he was there until he'd sat. She lay curled in a chaise lounge, wearing leggings, a long tunic, and a sweater.

She looked up, beautiful face lit in a smile. "I think I like hobbits."

"They are rather fascinating creatures, aren't they?" He poured tea, and set out a plate of sandwiches for her. "Please, help yourself."

They ate in the companionable silence of good friends, or trusting lovers, enjoying the quiet of the gathering dusk, the sweet scent of flowers, the fine blend of tea. Over the years, both before and after Belle, he had grown very accustomed to nobody's company but his own. However, just these few hours he'd spent with her were enough to convince him that this state was far, far better.

Belle set down her empty teacup. "May I ask some questions… about the magic?"

"Of course." Rumplestiltskin tried to ignore the twinge of nerves. He really was too tired to dance around the whole truth.

"You can heal people, you can stop ogres, you can make objects appear from nowhere… what else can you do?"

All right, he could choose his words carefully enough. "Most things, at least within the realm where I'm located, where the magic exists. For instance, I can move objects." With a flick, he lifted the tea tray and floated it back to the kitchen. Belle watched, eyes lit with excitement.

"That's amazing!"

"At times, I've helped people with their problems. Back in the Enchanted Forest, there was a young woman who could not conceive a child. A simple spell took care of that." There was no point in explaining just how much he regretted that particular deal, not just because that bitch Cora had outsmarted him. He'd often wondered how different his life would have been without the mother-daughter scourge that was Cora and Regina.

"That was kind of you. A child." Belle smiled, eyes dreamy. Then she gasped and sat up straight. "Rumple… what we've been doing… could I be with child? The boy said that he'd make sure I wouldn't be, though I'm not sure how he did it."

Rumplestiltskin took her hand. "Did he spill inside of you?"

She shook her head.

He rubbed his thumb in slow, soothing circles over her palm. "A man's seed inside of you… that's what starts a baby. Not all of the time, of course, but if it's to happen, the seed must be there."

Her face paled even further. "When you and I were together, you've…."

"Yes." He'd seen so reason not to. "But you're not pregnant, Belle, I made certain of it." He tugged on her hand, trying to draw her from her chaise to his own. It would be nice just to lie here for a while, holding one another.

But she didn't move. "How?"

Rumplestiltskin felt the first twinge of fear. There was something hard in her eyes now, and he wasn't quite sure what he'd done to put it there. "What do you mean?"

"How did you make certain?"

Fuck an ogre, he was in for it now, and no real room to lie his way out of it. "A… a simple spell."

Belle yanked her hand away from his. "You put a spell on me?"

"For your own good, my love." His words came fast, spilling over one another. "You've been through a great ordeal, and things are so very new, being pregnant would be difficult for you to contend with right now. I didn't want you to have to worry."

"My own good. You did magic on me, without my permission, for my own good."

Why the fuck was she angry about this? "Do you want a child?" The idea wasn't _unpleasant_, though if he had a choice in the matter, he'd probably prefer to wait a little while. Still, if it was what she wanted…. "Belle, if you want a baby, I'll give you one tonight. Right now." The thought of making love to her in the cool of the evening, in the garden, was an appealing one, and weary as he was from this afternoon's wild bout, he figured his prick was up to the task. But as he reached for the fastening of his trousers, she stood, and he knew she wasn't about to climb atop him like he'd briefly pictured.

She stood above him, tall and magnificent, hands clenched into fists. "You fucking bastard."

Before he could even get out of his chair, she'd stomped into the house.


	6. Lady of the Lake

_***** Because there have been some concerns brought up, I'd like to clarify Rumplestiltskin's actions of the last chapter for anyone who might have misread. As with the show, the events of this story thus far have happened over the course of several days. Not long enough to verify, much less end a pregnancy. Though Rumplestiltskin could see the future in the Enchanted Forest, there have not been indicators he can do so in Storybrooke, as magic works differently there, so he would have no way of knowing whether or not she would get pregnant. The 'simple spell' was to prevent possibility of it happening, like magic's version of the Pill. So one more time: the dark one did NOT terminate a pregnancy - he prevented one because he and Belle had not discussed whether or not they wanted to have a child yet, and he didn't want to give her one unless he knew that was what they both wanted.  
_

_Here it is, sorry it took so long. Life has an unfortunate habit of getting in the way of writing at times. However, I hope it was worth the wait. This chapter was fun to write because there is nothing at all from the show, so I'm working on setting up some of the conflicts that the show does portray. Warning - adult content ahead.  
_

**Chapter 5 – Lady of the Lake**

_Belle_

Bastard.

Conniving bastard.

Vile, unscrupulous bastard.

Manipulative, troll-shit-for-brains bastard.

Egotistical, maniacal, loathsome, despicable, contemptible, delicious bastard….

Damn it all.

Belle paced round and round the blue and yellow bedroom upstairs, but no amount of time or movement brought her to a better idea of what she was to do from here. She packed her neatly folded clothing into a bag, and opened the window. It wasn't a great drop to the ground, or she could simply climb down the trellis. Or she could just march right down the stairs and out the front door, but she knew if she did it that way, she might see him, and if she saw him, she'd never be able to leave. The trellis wouldn't be too difficult….

No.

If she was to leave every time she was angry, there would never be a happily-ever-after for herself and the man she loved. Yes, she was angry at Rumplestiltskin – stab-him-in-the-heart-and-cut-off-his-prick-angry, in fact, but she'd known going into this that there would be some serious work to be done, not just for him, but for her as well.

Life would be so much easier if he wasn't such a bastard. Life would be so much easier if he wasn't so damned sexy. Life would be so much easier if she didn't love him. However, at this present moment, she could change none of those things. She headed to the bathroom, where the sight of the tub and the memories it invoked made her knees wobble. Fairies, was she that easily led? Apparently so. The air in that room was still vaguely moist, still smelled like the jasmine oil he'd rubbed over her skin. She'd never be able to smell jasmine again without feeling her nipples tingle, her most tender flesh grow damp, her womb clench.

Damn it, furious as she was, there was a small part of her that wanted to race back down those stairs, right out to the garden, tear off her leggings and have her way with him, outside, no matter who might be watching or how horribly he'd behaved. It would be so easy, to just turn a blind eye to his wrongs and focus on what she loved, the vulnerability he never let anyone see, the wit he wanted everyone to see, the passion he reserved only for her.

Oh, fairies, the passion…. To spend forever with him, in his bed, letting him do all those delicious things to her body, learning to do the same for him, to laugh and whisper together at night, as they basked in the glow of shared splendor, to spend long evenings in the garden reading a book while he prepared her tea.

And slipped who-knows-what into it.

Damn it all.

She changed into the most modest nightgown she could find, a long white one that reminded her of something she might have once worn in her old life in the old land, and crawled beneath the blue and yellow coverlet. She forced her mind to think of hobbits, round doors, anything at all that wouldn't remind her of the man downstairs.

Long after the sun had set and the moon was high, Belle finally gave up on her quest for sleep. It just wasn't going to happen. She was too wound up, too angry, too troubled to let her mind settle enough to slip away into the uncluttered realm of dreams. Finally, she threw back the covers and headed barefoot back downstairs. Perhaps a cup of tea might take the edge off.

However, as she crept into the darkened kitchen, she saw a shadow at the table, a deceptive, dark-haired bastard holding a teacup that appeared to be empty.

"The pot's full," he said. "But I don't think it's hot anymore."

The thought of cold tea wasn't at all appealing, so Belle just sat. "Why aren't you in bed?" she finally asked.

He fiddled with his empty cup. "I find I prefer my bed with you in it."

Perhaps that had been her problem too, though it seemed unlikely that the few hours they'd spent in bed together had been enough to form a habit. "I don't know that I want to be in there right now, though."

"Yes, I gathered as much." He didn't seem quite able to meet her eyes. "So are you leaving, or is there a way I can go about fixing this?"

"Depends." She drew in a deep breath, fighting the urge to just leap across the table, into his arms, and be done with this whole mess. But if she did that now, he wouldn't learn a thing, and she'd be even deeper under his spell, his to do with as he wished, and as much as part of her wanted him badly enough that she'd be happy living like that, the more rational part of her knew that she could not lose herself completely. Not after living so long in the asylum, not even knowing her own name. She had to draw the line now, or she'd never be able to draw it at all. "Do you understand why I'm upset?"

"I've figured it out." He grasped the handle of his cane, as though he might be preparing to make a quick getaway. "I can't control you."

All right. Good start. "Really?"

He nodded, face very serious. "You see, I'm very accustomed to having control over most aspects of my life, and the lives of those around me. In our old land, my magic gave me a great deal of power. Here in Storybrooke, before the curse was broken, my money did the same thing. Now I have them both, magic and money, and I've simply used them as I saw fit, as I have always done. Truly, Belle, I only used that spell because I thought it was the best thing for you… you've been through so much, and I didn't want you to have to worry."

Yes, he'd said as much in the garden, and there was a part of her that understood his motives. But even though his motives had been good, his method had been reprehensible. She stayed quiet, waiting and hoping for more.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard and continued. "You're not angry that I protected you, though, are you? You're angry that I didn't ask what you wanted."

There. Thank the fairies, he did understand! "You did figure it out."

He nodded, looking ridiculously proud of himself. "I'm sorry, my love. I should have discussed things with you first."

"You should have." Belle felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders.

"So I'm forgiven, then?"

It was almost too easy. Another thought hit Belle, one that chilled her to the bone. "Could you make me forget?"

"Forget this… disagreement, you mean?" Rumplestiltskin spoke slowly, as though choosing his words with great care. Perhaps he thought she was leading him into a trap. Perhaps she was.

"Yes. With a potion, or a spell or something?"

"I could," he admitted, after only a moment.

That thought scared her more, but she kept on going. "Why didn't you, then?"

He moved a little closer to her and took her hand. "Because, my darling, it seems to me that the whole point you're upset is that you don't want me to control you. So if I were to do so, even if you didn't know, that would be quite a betrayal."

"It would." Belle wanted so badly to believe him. Could he be serious this time? Could he really understand what he had to do?

He continued to caress her hand as he spoke. "All the things I have collected, my money, my power… all of it I have acquired through deals, manipulations, magic, or violence, or some combination thereof. It was even through a deal that I brought you to my castle those years ago, remember? Your heart… your love… that is the only thing that has ever been given to me freely, without string or obligation. I did not buy or bargain for it. I did not steal it. Heaven knows I did not earn it, and I not deserve it, but it is mine nonetheless. Something so pure, so real… to sully that with magic would be to destroy it. And I cannot do that."

Belle swallowed hard, against the lump growing in her throat. Her eyes burned. He did understand, he did truly love her, and that love was strong enough to defeat whatever darkness remained within him. Now, she wanted even more to get across that table and into his arms, but she realized he wasn't finished speaking.

"And more than that… the reason I love you Belle, the reason I fell in love with you even back at the castle, is that I cannot control you. You're a storm, churning through my home and my life, making a mess and knocking me off my feet, and there's not a damn thing I can do but let you swirl around me. I don't want to shut the door, I don't want to try and stop you." He tapped the tip of her nose. "Because it's you that I want. You that I need. Just as you are."

Fairies, the man did have a way with words when he wanted to. But she couldn't let herself get swept away, not if she was going to secure the promise she knew she needed. "Rumple… if you just need me, you don't need magic."

He was silent for so long, she wondered if she'd angered him. But finally, he spoke. "What has one to do with the other?"

She took a deep breath, then let the words pour forth, hoping desperately he would understand. "Back at the castle, you said your power meant more to you than I did. I know you were lying, and you did so out of fear, but the thing that put that fear into you was your magic. What you tried to do to Regina… that was very dark magic. I know you sometimes use it to help people, but it's not good for you… the darkness is too much, it takes root deep inside, so deep I can't reach it, and it pulls you away from me. I can't lose you to it again, Rumple. I can't."

"So you don't want me to use magic anymore." His voice was very calm, but there was a storm in his eyes.

"I don't." Belle squared her shoulders. "I don't want you to use it at all… not for money, or for power, or even to help people. Not even to help me. Not even to save my life."

The storm in his eyes was gone, replaced by an ice so cold it almost frightened her. "To that I will not agree."

Belle stayed silent, biting her lip, trying very hard not to cry. Rumplestiltskin pushed himself up from the table and went about cleaning up the teapot and cups, as casually as though they might be talking about the weather. "If my use of magic frightens you, I can certainly back it off, but I will not take such a hard line, not when it comes to you." He came back to the table, took her hands again, and drew her up in front of him. "I will always use any and every means available to me to keep you safe, Belle. You can ask no less of any man who loves a woman."

Perhaps he might imagine her lying in a ditch somewhere, hurt and frightened and calling his name, but the chances of that happening were very slim. She was a smart girl. However, the chances of him giving into the dark lure of the power and growing evil once again... Belle kept her eyes locked on his. "I can't chance you losing your soul. I'm afraid that if you keep doing magic, that's what will happen."

Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arms tightly about her, drawing her body flush against his. "If something happens to you, and it was within my power to prevent it, I'll have lost my soul already." He kissed her mouth, very softly. "I can promise I won't use unnecessary magic, my love, but that's as far as I shall go. I won't do something without your permission again, like the preventative spell, but mark my words, Belle, if you are in danger, I _will_ use magic to save you if necessary."

Well, really the chances of that happening were rather slim. Belle reached up and laced her arms about his neck. "All right, then. I can live with that. If…."

He pulled her even closer, if that was possible. "If what, dearest?"

Belle kissed his cheek. "If you promise to make it up to me in the bedroom as well."

His hands slipped down to grasp her hips, and one warm palm moved in a lazy caress over her bottom. "That, I will be happy to do, my love." He reached for his cane, and took her hand to lead her from the kitchen. "But would you mind waiting until tomorrow? I'm so bloody exhausted I really don't think I could do it justice right now."

Knowing what it had cost him to make that admission, Belle simply squeezed his hand, realizing that she, too, was very tired. "That sounds good to me. As long as I get to sleep in your arms."

"I won't be having it any other way."

* * *

_Rumplestiltskin_

Even when he was up until all hours of the night, Rumplestiltskin was in the routine of rising early. He was a businessman, after all, and a creature of habit. His shop was open nearly every day, unless some very pressing business took him away. However, after he got out of bed, leaving the most beautiful woman in the realms sleeping there, bathed in the colors of sunrise that streamed through his window, he decided that the shop could stay closed for the day. Yesterday he'd made some mistakes; today he would atone.

They needed something to do out of bed, he mused, as he drank his first cup of tea in the early-morning silence. If Belle was to feel like she had an actual life now that she was out of the asylum, there had to be more to it than lovemaking, golden as it was. And the fuller her life felt, the less she would notice all the things he was keeping from her. So instead of preparing breakfast ahead of time, he waited until she wandered into the kitchen, barefoot and sinfully sexy in that virginal nightgown.

He greeted her with a kiss. "Do you like oatmeal?"

"I don't think I've had it." Her lush, perfect body was warm beneath the thin muslin, and he wondered briefly what she'd think of being tossed onto the counter and taken right there. But he called to mind a memory of Regina, and the urge passed quickly. Still, he couldn't resist just one more kiss. "Then you shall learn to make it, and we can try it together."

So they spent the day settling Belle in as she properly deserved. He took her through each room of the house, showed her each gadget and appliance and taught her how to work them, including the wash machine, which she found quite enchanting.

"Easier than a tub, isn't it?" she asked, as they watched the clothes swirl about in the soapy water.

"Much," he agreed.

As lovely as it was to see Belle sit in front of that contraption, staring at the glass front door as the clothes swirled round and round, Rumplestiltskin didn't want to linger too long. He'd heard suggestions of intimate fun that could be had when the machine was on spin cycle, and that wasn't where he wanted to go at the moment, delightful as it might be.

"Care to go for a drive?" he asked.

That suggestion was met with eager approval, and they made their way down to the clothing store, where they returned the things Belle didn't want, and she picked out many, many more. He didn't mind, of course, and was quick to instruct Fanny, the proprietress, to put anything and everything Belle desired on his account.

"She's a beautiful young woman," Fanny observed, after Belle had ducked into the change-room with the first armload of garments.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Very beautiful. Whatever she chooses of that…" he pointed at the lingerie, "make sure she gets them in every color."

Fanny nodded. "She is very special to you, is she?"

"Perhaps." He was careful to keep his voice hard. "But you understand that I prefer to keep my private life private, do you not?" He didn't necessarily dislike Fanny, but he wasn't certain that he wanted word of Belle's existence to spread through town quite yet, especially not to Mr. French, who had far too many reasons to dislike him.

Fanny, to her credit, nodded her assent without showing any emotion.

For the next few hours, Rumplestiltskin simply stood back and let Belle go, speaking only to approve of the beauty of a garment, or to encourage her to choose even more. She had eclectic taste that strayed far from his preference for dark, finely tailored suits for himself. She wanted color. She wanted patterned fabrics, swirling flowers and perky ginghams. She tended to gravitate towards dresses, which he privately preferred, having acquired a dislike of women wearing trousers many years ago. Besides, her legs were so magnificent, hiding them beneath trousers just seemed like a crime, especially when she was so fond of those high-heeled shoes. A few times, he wondered what she might look like wearing nothing but the shoes, but he quickly put such fantasies out of his mind, lest he embarrass himself in front of one of his many tenants.

Finally, he left the store with very heavy bags and a much lighter pocket. He was surprised to realize that he didn't care a whit about the money, not even within the confines of his own mind. He didn't like spending money under normal circumstances, in spite of the fact that he had so much of it, but it was somehow a pleasure to spend on Belle.

Back in the car, he gave her a quick tour of the town, careful to avoid going anywhere near the Game of Thorns flower shop. She hadn't yet asked about her father, but he knew that would be coming, and he did not look forward to that discussion. So instead, he brought up a topic he still didn't relish, but dreaded far less. "If I'm not to be using spells on you, then what sort of preventative shall we use?"

Belle looked at him blankly for a moment, then blinked as understanding dawned in her eyes. "I-I don't know."

Rumplestiltskin cursed at himself when he realized she likely knew very little about the topic. He drove to the pharmacy. "You wait here, love, I'll take care of this." He felt a bit like a callow youth, standing in the family planning aisle, examining the various possibilities. Condoms, lubricant, sponges….

"Planning a party?"

The voice belonged to Dr. Whale, who had once been called someone else, a name that Rumplestiltskin might be the only one in town aside from the good doctor to know. And although he and Whale weren't exactly friends, he wasn't eager to make another enemy.

"I believe the young people call it 'being prepared'," he said, in the most amiable tone he could muster.

Whale leaned a little closer, his breath giving off a faint whiff of laudanum. "If you're thinking about the girl from the asylum, you needn't bother. She's been given the birth control shot for years now. I myself administered her last dose just days before the curse ended. You've got a good three months or more before you'll need to worry about any of that."

At the thought of this man putting a needle into Belle's perfect skin, putting a drug into her body, without her knowledge or consent was enough to drive a man to think of murder. Rumplestiltskin had to work to control the flash of fury, and as he watched the doctor back slowly away, he realized that he hadn't been entirely successful. He quickly composed himself.

"This drug… has it harmed her in any way?"

Whale shook his head, still looking a little fearful. "Not a bit." He went on to explain a little more about the mechanics of the drug. The conversation ended with a quiet offer to bring Belle to see him, if they wanted to work out something else for preventative care. Even though he still wanted to punch him, Rumplestiltskin thanked the good doctor, bought some lubricant, and left, inwardly railing at himself. A fucking hypocrite, that's all he was. He hadn't thought twice about using a spell on her when it was for his convenience, but the thought of someone else manipulating her health….

An ogre's diseased arse, he was lucky Belle hadn't murdered him in his sleep or cut off his prick.

Belle was waiting in the car, looking through a bag of her new clothes. She smiled brightly, and reached for the bag he carried, though he instinctively held it tighter. "Why can't I see?" she cajoled, and he finally handed it over. She withdrew the bottle of lubricant and looked up at him. "This will keep me from getting pregnant?"

"Not exactly. Forgive me, Belle, but I must ask… when was the last time you bled?"

Her cheeks flared scarlet, and she suddenly became very interested in the bottle in her hands. "I don't… I haven't… not since I've been in the asylum."

Awkward as the situation was, a bit of Rumplestiltskin's tension eased. He tuned on the ignition and put the car into gear. "I ran into Dr. Whale," he said. "He informed me of a bit of the care you have received. They gave you a needle, approximately every three months?"

Still blushing, still refusing to look at him, Belle nodded. "They gave me other drugs sometimes, especially if I was causing a fuss, but that one was always very regular."

"And you recently had one?"

"Yes."

"That's good." He explained what Whale had told him. "Obscene as it was that they did that to you, love, it works out well for us for the time being."

Her eyes were suddenly on him, hard as stone. "Obscene?"

"Almost as obscene as what I did to you, with that spell. I understand better, now, love, and you have my word I will _never_ put a spell on you again." And he meant it. He'd decided not to tell her about the sleeping potion, and the magic he'd used there, but he was privately sorry, and he knew he would not do it again. Belle had spent too much of her life at the mercy of those more powerful than she, who used her for their own ends. If he loved her, he had to do better than that. He had to let her be free.

"I love you," she said softly.

"And I love you."

It was finished. However, in his distraction, he'd driven right past the hospital, the sight of which caused Belle to pale. "I'm sorry," he said, turning down a side street as soon as possible. "That was thoughtless of me."

She looked up at him and attempted to smile brightly, though Rumplestiltskin could see it was a strain. "I'm all right." She patted his arm. "I get to be with my true love now, don't I? What could be better than that?"

_To have been with me all along_, he thought, but didn't say it aloud. If she'd never left him, he might never have been able to write the curse, might never have been able to bring himself to this realm and a step closer to finding his son. But how she'd suffered…. "I'm glad you're with me, my love." He turned the car towards home, and accelerated, as his pulse began to beat faster. There was no real way to rationalize it, this sudden need he had to hold her, but he knew he'd have to get home to do it, for he knew he would not be satisfied until he was deep inside her.

When they got to the house, Belle was out of the car and halfway up the front porch stairs before he'd even turned the ignition off. She stood in the shadows, fidgeting with the buttons of her blouse, as he made his way up the stairs to unlock the door. Then he pulled her inside and got the door shut before they could really put on a show for the neighbors.

Belle wrapped herself round him like a cloak, fusing her mouth with his, thrusting her tongue to dance with his, digging her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders. Rumplestiltskin nearly dragged them both down right there, at the feel of her lissome curves against him, but even randy as he was, he would not take her on the hard floor of his front hall. He wasn't a beast.

With great effort, he pulled back from the kiss, back from her beckoning body. "Bed," he gasped. She nodded, spun, and hurried in the direction of the bedroom, leaving him to stagger behind her.

By the time he got into the bedroom, she'd disposed of her blouse, and was in the process of shimmying her skirt down over her perky little bottom. Rumplestiltskin's mouth went dry at the sight of her black lace panties, and he began the process of shedding his own attire, wishing that he could just use magic to vanish the garments, and speed up this damnable process of undressing. One snap, that was all he'd need. But he knew that Belle would not consider that 'necessary' magic, and there was no way in hell he was going to risk not letting this play out.

The beautiful object of his lust came to him then, wearing only those infernal panties. Without a word, she began helping him with his clothes. While he fumbled through the buttons of his shirt, she unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers, kneeling as she drew them, and his undershorts, down over his hips. He gasped as his erection sprang free, hot flesh into cool air. Belle knelt to get his pants all the way off, and he gladly kicked them aside, unable to look away as she disposed of his socks and shoes. The sight of her kneeling before him, pale breasts bare, was sheer, exquisite torture, and he had to fight to keep from spilling right there.

At some point, he would have to thank Regina for that particular memory that helped him keep his ardor at bay.

When she was finished, Belle shoved him onto the bed, climbing eagerly atop him as he fell. She scattered kisses down his neck, across his chest, and when she lightly bit his nipple, he yelped, hips rising from the bed to press into hers. He sat, and lifted her from him. "Get those panties off or I'll tear them to shreds," he muttered, and used the brief moment of respite time he had to get the covers drawn back.

Before he could think anymore, she was on top of him again, grasping his hard cock and working it inside of her. "Damn it, Belle, wait."

"I don't want to wait." She shifted, wriggled, and… oh, fairies… slid right down onto him, until he was buried hilt-deep in her sleek channel. _Oh…._

She was tight, so tight he was afraid he might hurt her a little, but the sight of her looming over him, gloriously, beautifully naked, the feeling of her flesh tautly trembling around him, was enough to make a saint lose control. He grasped her hips. "Darling," he moaned, as she pulled back and met his thrust. "I-I-I…." Another thrust. And another. Before he could gain control of himself, it was there, roaring through him, his life pulsing into her body, lifting him to the heavens and letting him fall. He stopped fighting and let the surge wash over him, radiating out from his cock to every other bit of his body. And then he lay flat, his only movements shuddering breaths.

He opened his eyes to see Belle snuggled beside him.

"You look rather pleased with yourself."

Her smile grew wide and downright smug. "I love that I can do that to you," she said. "I love that you want me so much you go almost mad. That's just me, isn't it? Men don't always…."

With a great deal of effort, Rumplestiltskin rolled on his side so he could face her. "I don't know what other men do." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "But no, my love, I've never lost control like that with anyone else before. I've never wanted anyone like I want you."

She rested a cool hand on his hipbone. "That's good, because I've never wanted anyone before, either. I feel like I'm going half mad sometimes, thinking about you and how much I want… need to be close to you, to feel you inside of me." Her cheeks grew red. "You must think I'm a terrible wanton."

Ogres, what the fuck was wrong with those nursemaids, teaching her that a woman shouldn't enjoy the pleasures of love? Stupid, dried-up, frigid old bitches, the lot of them. He kissed her, a slow, leisurely dance between tongues, designed to get her blood stirring. "I'm a fortunate man," he murmured, "to have such a hot-blooded woman in my bed." He nibbled his way across her jawline and down her neck, to linger on a sensitive spot by her collarbone. "And my darling, if you are insatiable, well, that's just an absolutely delicious challenge." He rolled her to her back and continued his mouth's exploration, over her sternum, beneath the sweet curves of her breasts, to gently blow on one turgid nipple.

Belle whimpered and threaded her fingers through his hair, apparently trying to guide him a little closer, close enough to do what he knew she wanted him to do. But he stayed firmly where he was, letting his tongue dart out for the tiniest lick, then drawing further back. When he spoke again, he made sure his breath would wash over that damp bit of flesh. "You see, if you are insatiable… well, that means that I can do nothing other than try to sate you." Then he bent his head and drew hard on her nipple, rolling the hardened peak against his tongue as she arched and moaned. Her other breast needed the same treatment, then back to the first, then over again, until she was very nearly weeping with need. Then, finally, he reached between them, to slip his fingers into her feminine core.

She was hot, still wet with his seed, the tiny nub of pleasure nearly rock-hard. Giving her breasts a final kiss, he sat, parting her thighs more fully, until he could see the delicate pink flesh beyond the nest of dark, wet curls. Belle's eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth, possibly to protest at how exposed she was to his gaze, but he firmly shook his head. "We don't hide from one another. Not here." He pressed her legs even further apart, reaching his fingers as deep inside of her as he could. She drew in a shocked breath, and grasped handfuls of the sheet beneath her.

"Feel it, my love," he murmured, as he stroked, finding that rougher bit of flesh inside of her that was so sensitive to his touch. "Feel me touching you, feel me inside of you, feel what I'm doing." With his free hand, he found the top of her slit, the hard little organ there, and began to caress that as well, in lazy swirls that would serve to bring her pleasure even higher. "You love this, don't you? I can feel it, feel you getting even wetter. It's pulling your whole body apart, isn't it? You feel like you have to break or you'll just go mad."

She was going mad, he could see it and feel it, and he loved it. Her knees bent, her feet arched, she restlessly tore at the sheets beneath her. He could smell her arousal in the midst of the tang of their sweat and his seed, and he slowly increased the pressure, knowing that she was very close. Her knuckles grew white and her lips grew bloodless and her breath was reduced to mewing gasps. Yes, that was it. That was his girl, wild and passionate and nearly mad with need. Rumplestiltskin smiled as he pushed harder inside, while simultaneously pinching her clitoris, and it had just the effect he'd hoped. She shrieked, hips surging upwards, back arching, and as her entire body began to spasm, he felt a fresh gush of wetness on his hands. He lay back down to hold her, to whisper his love until the storm passed.

When it finally did, and her gaze met his, he couldn't help but feel quite victorious. What man wouldn't, after having pleasured such a lovely woman?

"I really am a wanton," she said, voice shaking.

He laughed and stroked her hair. "You are my passionate lover. More perfect than I could have dreamed."

Eventually, they shared a steamy shower, and Rumplestiltskin discovered that there was something incredibly erotic about washing a woman's hair. They brought Belle's clothes in from the car, and put everything, including the things from upstairs, away in his bedroom. Belle made tea and sandwiches, eager to use the rather brilliant little gadget called the vegetable peeler on the cucumbers, and they ate in the garden. Then she slipped onto his chaise with him, and they lay cuddled together while he pointed out the constellations in the night sky. She soaked up every word he said, lovely face alive with wonder, and he held her and stroked her hair and wondered if it was actually possible for them to remain this happy.

* * *

_Belle_

After such an encounter as today's, Belle felt rather ridiculous wearing the long white nightgown, so she chose a short lace one instead, one that made Rumplestiltskin's eyes gleam as soon as he saw it. "You're trying to seduce me, aren't you?"

Belle laughed and threw her arms round his neck. "Perhaps. Are you seducible?"

"Perhaps."

But when he moved to strip the covers from the bed, Belle stopped him. "I'm rather cold," she said. "Can you warm me up, first?"

"Gladly." Soon they were snuggled beneath the warmth of the blankets. "You still smell like jasmine," Rumplestiltskin murmured in her ear, as he lay close behind her. "I believe it's my new favorite fragrance."

Belle giggled. "Mine, too. That felt amazing, by the way, what you did for me. In the bathtub. And this afternoon. Did I tell you that?"

"I'd gathered as much," he said drily.

_Amazing_ didn't seem enough of a word, so she kept babbling, trying to find the right way to express exactly what it was that she was feeling, exactly what that experience had been for her, to have him take over her body so completely. "Really, though, it was… I never thought anything could feel so good. Ever. It's like I'd been dead for my whole life, and it's just now I'm alive…." She let her voice trail out, unsure if he'd think her ridiculous.

But his arms just tightened around her. "You like that, my love, just wait until I do it with my tongue."

Belle, still caught in the bliss of being held so close to him, let the words wash over her, not immediately catching the meaning. However, once it did sink in, she stilled. Surely he didn't mean that the way it sounded. That just wasn't done, was it? A vision flashed unbidden, of Rumplestiltskin's dark head between her bare thighs, and she shivered.

His soft laughter rumbled in her ear. "You like that idea, do you?"

"You're joking," she said firmly. Surely, he was. No man would ever actually consider _licking_ a woman's… well, _that_ part of her. The thought was even more appalling than it was arousing.

"I assure you, I'm quite serious." He sat up, pushed the blankets away, and grasped the hem of her nightgown. "I can show you right now if you like."

Belle yelped as the cool air hit her bare legs, and lurched herself away from him. The world tipped, and the bed disappeared beneath her, sending her slamming down onto the hard floor. This time, she landed on her knees, hard, wrenching one foot beneath her. She cried out at the pain, and inwardly cursed herself for being so clumsy. How would he ever respect her as an equal if she kept tumbling about like a newborn puppy? Tears pricked behind her eyes, and she slumped backwards, unable to even try salvage some pride from this. Her foot began to throb, thick pulses of pain.

"Belle, darling."

She wasn't certain how long she spent on the floor, but there was no way she could actually look at Rumplestiltskin right now, after such an idiotic move. But she felt his strong arms around her, lifting her back up onto the bed, and his hands moving over her body, presumably checking for injuries. "Sweetheart, what happened? Where does it hurt?"

Belle kept her eyes tightly shut as the tears rolled out, hot on her cheeks. _Fuck_. Even thinking the word felt a little wrong, but she was so humiliated there was something satisfying in the forbidden profanity. The tears came harder, and she tried to cover her face, unwilling to let him see her like this. Why wouldn't he just go away?

But he didn't go away. He stayed right there, stroking her legs. "It's all right. You're going to be fine. I'm going to make it better. I'll take the pain away, sweetheart, I promise. I'll take it away."

The heat first flashed across her aching knees, and before Belle could protest, through her throbbing foot. Then the pain was gone.

"Magic," she murmured, only half in protest.

Even though she could not see him, she could feel the hard resolve settle over him. "I cannot abide seeing you in pain, Belle. It's unbearable to me, especially when I can so easily do something about it."

Belle didn't argue further. A quick healing would just make this whole thing be over quicker. Though she kept her eyes closed, she could feel and hear him leave the room, and come back moments later. He eased her hands from in front of her face and wiped gently at the tears with a cool, damp cloth. Finally, Belle let him help her sit, and she finally looked at him.

He was very close, eyes anxiously searching her face. "Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"My dignity." In spite of the ridiculousness of the situation, or perhaps because of it, Belle giggled. "I feel like an idiot."

Then he smiled, and she could see the tension drain from his posture. "I'm sorry I frightened you, my love. I forgot myself, forgot that you're innocent and just taking your first steps into the art of physical love, and I pushed you too hard. Please forgive me."

Belle touched his beloved face and nodded.

He kissed her cheeks, which were still hot from the tears she'd so recently shed. "Now, do you think we can try to sleep?"

"Yes." Belle let him help her lie back down, this time significantly further from the edge of the bed. But the original question remained. "Rumple… you were joking, weren't you?"

He stretched out next to her and wrapped his arms around her again. "Not at all."

So he actually was going to…. Belle gasped, shivers of heat and ice flashing through her flesh. "So you are going to do that sometime."

Gently, he stroked her hip. "Not until you're certain you want me to."

Maybe the idea did arouse more than it appalled, but Belle had been raised to be a decent girl, and the sheer decadence of such a thing was too much to grasp right now. "And if I never do?"

"You will."


	7. Update

Dear readers,

This isn't a new chapter, just a quick update as to the status of the story. Last week, I ended up in the ER with a medical emergency, and ended up staying in the hospital for a while. I'm all right, and back at home recovering. I know there hasn't been an update in a while, and I just want all you to know that I'm not abandoning the story. I'm hoping to have new chapter within the next few days.

Diana


	8. Between Lady of the Lake & the Crocodile

****_At long last, here we go. Thanks for everyone's patience at the long wait for a new chapter. Thanks so much for all the kind words and well wishes and prayers. I'm on the road to recovery, and will hopefully be able to get the chapters up a little faster over the next few weeks. This story is just burning in my mind, and I'm aching to get it all out! I'm glad that you are enjoying what's being built here. I write because I need to, but to know that people are involved in the story, that it's an experience for them, just makes it that much richer and more wonderful for me, so thank you._

**Chapter 6 - Between Lady of the Lake and the Crocodile**

**or  
**

**_Crafty Philological Skills_**

_Rumplestiltskin_

As the next few days went by, Rumplestiltskin couldn't remember why he'd ever considered rejecting Belle's love. He'd had no idea such happiness even existed. To wake each morning beside her, to leave for the shop still tasting her kiss, to come home to find her curled up in a chair somewhere, so absorbed in a book she'd forgotten, again, to cook a meal like she'd insisted she ought to do. Not that he cared about what he put into his stomach. Living on tea and toast was nothing for a man who got to spend his nights in the arms of the woman he loved, adoring every sweet inch of her body, reveling in her ecstatic cries, shuddering his release as her flesh trembled around him.

Even in his wildest fantasies, he hadn't guessed that Belle would be so insatiable, the little minx. Anywhere, anytime, he always found her wet and ready, and he was rather glad that the blend of tea he kept at his shop had a particular ingredient designed to keep up his… energy. It wasn't out-and-out magic, he'd had to justify to himself.

It was late one afternoon, as he was strolling back from a quick meeting with the Dove, his most unpleasant, yet effective thug, when he realized that the house of cards was going to fall. He damn near ran right into the woman whose meddling had started him down this accursed path.

Mother Superior, or the Blue Fairy, as she had once been known, cast him an icy look. "I'd think you'd learn to be more careful where you step."

Rumplestiltskin tried to banish the fantasy of tossing her into a pit of starving ogres. "It surely doesn't matter, does it, if I squish a bug or two?"

Her eyes flashed, but her face remained still. "Are you enjoying the mess you made?"

He'd savour the whole thing, watching the savage beasts tear this sanctimonious hypocrite's flesh to bits. "A little. I find it rather amusing, for instance, that you're still powerless."

Her small white hands gripped into fists. "I won't be for long. And when I get my power back…."

He tried to keep from laughing. "You'll enact your revenge? I'm sorry, Blue, but you've got it rather backwards in my case. Remember it was you that committed a crime against me. This…" he waved at the tired little town around them, "…this just might be my revenge on you."

It might be funny, if she were to try take a swing at him in broad daylight, and he might welcome the chance to squash the buzzing little beetle as he should have done years ago, but she very well could still prove useful. He took a precautionary step back and offered what he hoped was a conciliatory smile. "So, how goes the curse-breaking?"

She arched a brow. "Curse-breaking?"

Something cold began to curl within Rumplestiltskin's belly. He'd been counting on the fairies, powerless or not, to be working out a way to break the curse over Storybrooke. Truly, with their saccharine self-righteous focus on 'good' magic, they might be better at it, anyhow. "Are you not working on a way to break this curse? I hear you've already lost a friend to the town line… I'd think you'd be rather focused on ensuring it doesn't happen again."

The fairy's eyes narrowed, and he wondered if she could see right through his motives. As much as he hated her, she was a clever one, and did have a way of looking directly into the heart of a matter. "We're not too concerned about that right now," she said. "We're focused entirely on finding Miss Swan and Snow."

There it was, the news he'd been dreading. The cold rushed through him, and he had to fight to stay on his feet, and keep himself controlled. "You're certain they're even alive?"

"No." She lifted her chin. "But we have faith. And young Henry needs this… there's nothing more important than keeping parents and children together, wouldn't you say?"

The blood roared in his ears, and all he could see was that beautiful, beloved face, the angry eyes, the mouth spitting out the last thing his son had ever said to him. _Coward_. He gripped his cane even tighter, and struggled to clear the image from his memory. Finally, he succeeded in replacing it with the rather satisfying thought of the blue bitch's heart crumbled to dust in his hand.

When he finally opened his eyes, she was gone.

Back at the shop, he hauled out his old supplies, the spinning wheel, the vials, the folios, the potions and materials. He even sat down and spun a small strand of gold. As the evening grew dark, he struggled, moving things, rearranging time after time, stacking and shifting and sorting. But try as he might, there was no real way to transform the back room of the shop into a suitable work area that he could keep private from prying eyes. There simply wasn't enough space. Exasperated, he set some water on to boil. Tea would soothe his nerves, clear his mind.

"Working hard, I see."

The unwelcome voice came from the doorway, and he looked up to glare at Regina. "What do you want?"

She strolled into the back room, hips swaying. "Nothing, really. Just wanted to visit an old friend."

"How lovely. I do hope you can find one." He looked around the cramped space again, wondering if he could get rid of any furniture. Probably not. There were his boxes and crates of things, but they had to stay. There was the small alchemy table, but he needed that. And there was the counter, which he needed even more than the alchemy table. Ogre balls, this was a mess.

Apparently, she couldn't take the hint. Regina stayed where she was. "Strange, you're here so late. I'd think you'd rather be at home, mounting your little housekeeper. Or have you tired of her already?"

Mounting… such a crass term, really, but appealing in its way. He hadn't taken her in that fashion yet; perhaps something to try tonight. He looked Regina up and down, blatant about letting his gaze linger on her breasts and hips. "Not at all, dearie. A lovely young woman like Belle, so fresh and firm, nothing starting to sag or spread… a man doesn't tire of that."

The barb hit, and Regina, who was definitely not so fresh and firm anymore, flinched. But then she smirked. "Perhaps she might tire of you. If I recall, none of your other lovers were ever quite so easy on the eyes, and none of them actually held any affection for you. Such beauty and passion could very well… overwhelm a man, couldn't it? How long will she be content if the fumbling old man in her bed is finished before he's begun?"

Bilious tart. Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth and smiled at her in what he hoped was a condescending fashion. "That hasn't been a problem. If I ever do need to slow things down, I just think of you. Damn near kills my libido dead, but Belle can get it going again quick enough."

If looks could kill, he'd be dust right now, but he didn't really care. He had better things to do than to trade insults with the poisonous viper that was Regina, or the Evil Queen, whichever she wanted to be called. "Not that this hasn't been lovely, but I do have things to do, so I'll be seeing you some other time."

But Regina didn't move. "Your kettle's boiling. Aren't you going to offer me some tea?"

"With arsenic, perhaps." Of course he knew of better poisons, but he had promised Belle no magic.

"You won't kill me." Regina perched on the edge of the table and crossed her legs in a fashion that might be appealing to a man who hadn't seen her rotten core. "Thing is, Rumple, as much as you won't want to admit this, you and I have an awful lot in common. For instance, we share the same greatest fear. And with both of us, that fear is our greatest vulnerability."

Confound her to hell. "And what might that be?"

All of the malicious teasing left her eyes, and for a moment, she looked very sad, almost human. "Seeing ourselves as a monster in the eyes of the one we love."

Rumplestiltskin didn't reply, just poured tea and handed her a cup, wishing, yet again, that he could just slip some poison in there and be done with her for good. But the festering bitch was right. He'd gathered far too many terrible moments in his long lifetime, had experienced some horrific pain, both before and after becoming the Dark One, but nothing had ever hurt more than looking into his son's eyes that last time, and seeing what Bae actually saw when he looked at his papa. Belle had been disappointed in him a time or two to be sure, but she'd never looked at him like that, like all love and all hope was lost.

The tea tasted like troll piss. He set it down, and leaned against the counter, suddenly too weary to even raise his head. "So what do you propose I do, then, Your Majesty?"

"Do better," she said simply.

"Say that again, please?"

She hopped off the table and came to stand beside him. "Do better. _Be_ better. Be the kind of person that she wants you to be."

"And if that's not possible?"

Regina slugged back the rest of her tea and set the empty cup on the counter. She smirked, looking again like the evil queen of old and far less like a woman who might actually still have a heart. "Then do what you're best at. Lie."

"She's clever. She'll figure it out."

"Then lie better."

It might have been minutes, or maybe hours after Regina left the shop that Rumplestiltskin came to a decision. It was the same as before. He couldn't break his vow to Bae, not again. He didn't want to break his promise to Belle either, but he'd spent too many years fighting to get back to his son that he simply could not give up now. So, with a few snaps of the fingers, he transferred all of his equipment from the shop to the basement of his house. Belle had never seen that room, so if she did happen upon everything there, he might be able to convince her that, although some things were there, he wasn't actually using them. Then again, the girl was not stupid. He'd need an excuse for when she eventually figured it out.

_I have to make sure we stay safe here. I will need spells for that_.

_I'm working out a way to do something really good for humanity…. And the sky is purple and the moon is made of cheese and trolls don't have hairy bollocks_. Fuck it all, nobody was going to believe that he'd be up to something completely selfless, much less the woman whose heart he had broken.

_I'm trying to open the portal to bring back Miss Swan and Snow_. No, he'd already told Belle that he couldn't work with portals.

_I'm a cowardly bastard who betrayed my own son and I've spent the last few hundred years destroying countless other people's lives, including yours, in a desperate attempt to find him and beg for his forgiveness_.

And then he could watch her march right out the door.

Fuck.

He drove home, cursing to himself. Rather than going right into the house, he took a quick peek in the basement. It was all there… the spinning wheel, the alchemy table, the vials, the little jars of this and that and everything else he'd collected over the years that might prove helpful in working out the curse. Most importantly, he had his notes, folio after folio after folio of spells, research records, inventories, and recipes for nearly every bit of magic he'd ever done. Most of the information was stored in his head as well, for he did have a prodigious memory, but he wasn't a man to take chances, so a written record was a good thing. Of course, he was smart enough to enchant the folios so they'd appear blank to everyone but him.

As he stood in the basement and surveyed the workroom, he had to resist the urge to sit down at the wheel and get going right then and there. As eager as he was to break this curse and find his son, he had a responsibility to the woman in his bed. However he did this, he was going to find a way that hurt her as little as possible. He'd been granted a miracle, her being alive and well and in his arms, and he didn't want to destroy that. She might very well be awake and waiting for him at this very moment. He would figure out a time where he could do his work without her noticing, but that time was not now.

* * *

_Belle_

Though a shire had just been scourged, Belle had been having a hard time feeling sad about it. Rumplestiltskin had never been so late coming home before, and although she didn't want to fuss, it frightened her to be alone in the house in the dark. The silence was too much like the asylum, and in those witching hours, her weary mind could play tricks on her, tease her that it was all a dream, and that her true love was gone and she was really all alone.

At this moment, she was almost glad that he was taking so long to come to their bedroom, for as soon as she'd seen the headlights of his car flash through the windows, she'd let out a strangled sob of relief. She didn't want him to see her cry anymore.

Thankfully, by the time he did come through the bedroom door, her emotions were well under control. He looked so handsome, in his dark suit, but so weary, as if he might be bearing the sorrows of the world upon himself. Anxious to give him comfort, she sprang out of bed and hurried to embrace him. He seemed pleased to hold her close, and as his hand drifted over her back, and lower, she could tell the exact moment he realized she wore absolutely nothing under her short little nightie. The thin silk of that garment provided practically no barrier to sensation, and she snuggled closer, enjoying the way the fabric of his jacket rubbed against her breasts.

He kissed her, lips and tongue doing delicious things that sent thrills of pleasure right down to her core. "You smell like jasmine," he murmured.

Belle nodded and began working on the buttons to his jacket. "I had a bath. Not as much fun by myself, but I thought of you and that made it better."

"Then I shall shower, and afterwards, perhaps you can tell me a little more of what you were thinking."

Heat flushed through her body, and Belle's hands shook a little as she eased the jacket off his shoulders. "I'd be glad to." She hung the jacket, because he liked to keep his suits nice, and helped him with the rest of his clothes and got them hung up as well. Fairies, he looked sexy, going stark naked into the bathroom, leaving his cane right outside the door.

Belle slipped back into bed and picked up the book that she'd been examining that day. Not the adventure book, but the instructional one… the one about sex. She'd been hesitant to pick it up at all, as she was learning things quick enough just under Rumplestiltskin's tutelage, but boredom, or curiosity, had gotten the better of her today. And there was a particular section she wanted to discuss with him. Tonight, before she lost her nerve.

It seemed like no time at all before he was out of the shower, damp hair curling around his handsome face. He was wearing a full set of pyjamas, and she wondered if he really didn't want to make love, or if he was just that distracted. When he saw her, he stopped, and blinked several times. "Oh. Oh yes." He sat on the edge of the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Perhaps it would be easier this way, not looking right at him. "I-I read the sex book today."

His shoulders stiffened slightly. "Yes? And what did you think?"

"It was interesting. Especially the part about… what we talked about that one night. The…" she had to glance down to make certain she had the word right "… cunnilingus."

Very slowly, he shifted to look at her, eyes dark with something she couldn't quite define. "I take it you're a little less horrified now?"

Belle swallowed hard. Was this done? Could she just sit here and _ask_ a man to do that to her? The book said nothing about the proper protocol for that sort of thing… how one went about suggesting it to one's partner. "Perhaps," she finally said. "I also read that it can go the other way… the woman… doing that to the man." _That_, strangely enough, hadn't horrified her at all. Shameful as it might have been, she'd been wondering since the first time they'd made love how that part of him might feel in her mouth, how it might taste.

But Rumplestiltskin's eyes were nearly black now, as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. "Rest assured, my love, you will never be called upon to do such a thing."

"But.…" Belle shoved the offending book away, and heard it thud to the floor. "You said you wanted to do that to me."

He drew in a shuddering breath and nodded. "And I shall, as often as you wish. However, it's not a quid pro quo. That particular act is something that a man asks of a whore, not his wife." Finally, he got the shirt open and wrenched it from his shoulders, whipping it aside with far more force than what seemed necessary.

Cheeks burning, Belle struggled to make sense of what he was saying. "There are whores in Storybrooke?"

"Of course. Seems as though that profession is a common element of every world." He pushed away the covers and moved closer to her. "Darling, I will _never_… _never_ ask you to debase yourself in that fashion. So put it out of your head." He bent to kiss her, but Belle stopped him with a hand to his chest.

"Rumple… I'm not your wife."

His expression grew infinitely tender, and he stroked her cheek. "But you will be, won't you? I know we haven't discussed it, and it's perhaps too soon to do so, but you must know, my sweet Belle, that I want to be with you forever."

Yes, she did know that. And she wanted the same, though she was still too frightened to say so, considering her trepidation over his magic, and the darkness that still lurked within his heart. Still, this last revelation was painful to think about. "But… I don't think I would mind… doing that."

He shook his head, then began laying a trail of kisses along the line of her jaw. "Not necessary."

As he began to toy with the thin strap of her nightgown, Belle began to tremble, and it was a fight to keep her head. Oh, she desperately wanted to lose herself, to let him sweep her away in the blaze of heat, and just forget this whole conversation ever happened, but no, she couldn't. She pushed him back once again. "Rumple, I mean it." She met his gaze straight on, even though her insides were going liquid at the sight of his passion-glazed eyes. "I don't want you to see a whore, or any other woman, for that or anything else. I want you to only be with me."

His beautiful lips dropped open and he stared for so long that Belle nearly started to squirm. Her mind raced. Was it so unreasonable, to expect fidelity? Was he truly so lost in his dark nature that he couldn't comprehend the thought? Oh, ogres, had he been with someone else since they'd come together?

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke, face grave, voice low. "In our old land, for a very long time, I thought that part of me was dead, but then you came along." He gently touched her cheek. "Since we met, I've desired none but you, and I've touched none but you, and you have my word, I never will. You're all I want, my sweet Belle, and even if you never make love with me again, I shall still have no other."

The rush of relief was so strong Belle had to squelch the urge to either laugh or cry as she caressed his beloved face. "But a man has his needs."

He grinned wryly. "It's my leg that doesn't work well, love. I have two good hands."

Then she did laugh. "I can vouch for the… effectiveness of your hands." Belle raised herself to her knees, and allowed him to pull the little silk nightie over her head and away, leaving her completely bare. She moaned in delight as his palms covered her breasts. Good hands, indeed. "However, I want them on me, so I think I must keep you so satisfied you'll never think about using them on yourself."

"I'll be holding you to that." His mouth closed over hers, and her heart began to pound. It took a moment for her to realize that the thumping noise she heard was not actually from within her body, but somewhere outside the room.

"Is that the door?"

"Yes, it is." Rumplestiltskin scooted away from her and reached for his shirt. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go commit murder. Then we shall finish what we started."

His eyes were so dark Belle wasn't certain whether he was joking or not. She grabbed her nightgown and wriggled back into it, intending to follow him out to the door. But he seemed to read her mind.

"Stay here," he called over his shoulder as he hurried off.

* * *

_Rumplestiltskin_

_Bloody fucking hell_.

It took a matter of seconds to get into the front hall, but Rumplestiltskin spent each and every one of them fantasizing about what he might do to the person who dared interrupt his little tête à tête with Belle. He peered through a window panel, equally relieved and furious to see the Dove standing on the front porch. He wrenched the door open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hissed.

The thug seemed nonplussed. "Forgive me for the late hour, Mr. Gold, but I have some information you've requested."

"And it couldn't wait until morning?" He wondered if he could just ram his cane into the Dove's balls, or would the bigger man be too strong and fast.

"When you gave me the assignment, you requested that I come to you immediately upon attaining the information, no matter the hour."

His mind spun. "Which damned assignment was that?"

"The acquisitions specialist, sir. William…."

"Oh yes. I remember." Festering ogre ass, in his horny obsession with Belle, he'd completely forgotten about that very important task! He forced a more pleasant expression on his face. "So you've found the gentleman?"

"He's been spotted. I've yet to have the opportunity to… encounter him."

Well, it was a start. Rumplestiltskin nodded briskly, and shook the big man's hand. "Well done, my friend. Once the job is finished, please let me know, and we can proceed from there."

"Yes, sir."

He watched until the hulking shadow was off the porch and out of the yard before locking up and going back to bed. When he saw Belle sitting solemnly on the bed, nightgown back in place, he felt something cold inside his belly, something that told him he would not be showing her his crafty philological skills tonight.

"Who was at the door?" she asked. Her blue eyes were clear and direct, burning right into his.

"An associate." He tried to keep his voice steady as he set aside his cane and sat back down on the bed.

"One who comes calling after midnight?"

"He has rather poor social skills, I'm afraid. Put it out of your mind." He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Her eyes went from boring into his to examining his bare chest, and he had to hide a smile. He was getting there. Yes, Belle was curious, and she didn't want him to have secrets, but she was also a hot-blooded little minx, and had a difficult time resisting her body's baser urges, all the better for him. He took off his pants, revealing his raging hard-on, and her eyes grew wide as she stared, unashamed. Her little pink tongue peeped out, just enough to wet her bottom lip, and he almost spilled right there, just as he had when she'd mentioned the idea of playing his tune. Fairies! The idea of her beautiful mouth wrapped round his rude flesh was akin to paradise, but no decent man asked that of a woman he loved and respected.

"That's the second time you've said that to me tonight," she said, as he blazed a trail of moist kisses up the side of her neck. "I wonder if you want me to think about anything at all."

Rumplestiltskin glided his hand up her thigh, pleased to find the soft folds of her womanhood already slick and wet. "Right now, all I want you to think about is this," he whispered, as he slipped his fingers inside of her.

* * *

_Belle_

Did he really expect her to forget? Belle poured their morning tea, trying to decide how to bring up the topic of their late-night visitor again. Obviously, something important had transpired, but her lover seemed to be willing to go to great lengths to distract her from it. Oh, she wasn't so stupid that she didn't realize he'd hoped to pleasure her into forgetting… but she had been wanton enough to let him. And now, in the light of day, with her body still humming from the night's ecstasy, the issue just didn't seem so important.

She jumped a little, when she felt a warm hand on her hip. She hadn't realized that Rumplestiltskin was right behind her. He drew her back against him, one hand firm on her belly while the other traced lazy circles over her breasts. "Do you ever stop?" she asked, only half in jest. She did have something serious to discuss with him, something that had nothing to do with their visitor, and even less to do with her libido.

"I could, if you want me to." He pinched her nipple and within moments, her knees were trembling and her panties were damp. He smelled like bay rum cologne and something more elemental… the man himself, her broken, damaged, beautiful, masterful lover.

"No… no, please proceed."

So he did, holding her flush against him while he slipped his hand into her skirt, then her panties, and began a slow caress that quickly brought her to a dizzying explosion of feeling.

When that was done, and Belle's head was cleared, and they were sitting at the table, drinking their tea, she told him what was on her mind. "I'd like to find my father. Do you know if he's in Storybrooke?"

Something dark shadowed Rumplestiltskin's face, and she wondered if it was because he felt guilty that he'd long ago extorted her from her father. She took his hand. "It will be fine. He loves me, so he will accept whomever I love."

"There is… there is a place downtown where people are putting up posters, searching for missing loved ones. If you'd like to make something up, we can go out and post it there."

That sounded like an excellent idea, so as he cleaned up their breakfast, she worked with some paper and colored pencils. She was no artist, but she figured she'd made a decent enough image of her father that someone who was familiar with him would recognize it for what it was. Of course, the reunion might be a bit awkward, as there was certain to be tension between these two men she loved so much in such different ways, but she knew they'd figure it out somehow.

As Rumplestiltskin held open the front door of the shop for her, she realized that it was the first time she'd been there since the night they'd found once another again. She was surprised at how fast her heart beat, remembering the intensity of that day, the fear and the relief. As much as she didn't want to admit such a thing, it was uncomfortable to be outside of the haven of their home. _She_ was out here somewhere, with her icy stare and her black clothes and her sharp high heels.

But her father might be as well, and that gave her resolve. She did want to find him.

"Feel free to explore, my love. I have some things to find." He kissed her cheek and disappeared behind the curtain. Belle was happy to wander about the storefront, examining the curios and bits and pieces of things. Some she recognized as elements of his collection that she'd once dusted at the castle. Unable to keep away from a stack of books, Belle set aside the poster of her father and began examining the titles. In her fascination, she didn't even hear the front door bell. But she did hear the voice.

"Excuse me, Miss."

Belle set down her book and turned to see a young boy standing there, looking up at her with beautiful, oddly familiar brown eyes. He had a sweet, open smile on his face, as though he expected to be her friend. So she smiled back.

"What can I do for you, young sir?"

"My name's Henry." He stuck out his hand, in that gesture that Belle now knew meant she was supposed to take the limb and shake it, which she did.

"I'm Belle."

His eyes widened slightly, and she wondered if he knew something about her. "I'm here to see Mr. Gold… I mean Rumplestiltskin. Is he here?"

"Indeed I am." The former Mr. Gold appeared from behind the curtain. He smiled at the child, his expression so tender it turned Belle's heart over. She hadn't thought about him interacting with children before, but yes, he'd once had a much-loved son, and from the looks of things, he'd been a kind and doting father. "What can I do for you, Henry?"

The boy glanced at Belle, then back to Rumplestiltskin, his meaning clear as crystal. "I-I was hoping to talk to you."

Belle squeezed the child's shoulder. "This sounds like a matter between men. How about I leave you two gents to it, shall I?" Not missing the grateful glance from the man she loved, she hurried off to the back of the shop. As she was ducking behind the curtain, the boy began to speak.

"She's pretty. Is she your true love?"

The curtain swished closed behind her, but she could still hear Rumplestiltskin's reply. "Yes, yes, I believe she is. Now, what can I do for you?"

Smiling, Belle moved away from the curtain. Within the beast, there truly beat a heart of gold. As the male voices faded, a small tin trunk of jewelry caught her attention, and she moved to examine it. Strange little items, seemingly bits and pieces of broken necklaces and such, though pretty in their own way. One silver chain was particularly strange, with little devices at each end. They looked like small, modified clothespins, held together by tiny screws. Were fashions in this realm really so odd? Belle moved towards the front room, hoping Rumplestiltskin could give her an answer.

She paused at the curtain again, not wanting to interrupt if he was not finished with young Henry. And indeed, he didn't seem to be. "I'm sorry I cannot help you find Mary Margaret and your mother. Even my magic has limitations, and moving between realms is one of them. But I implore you, Henry, you must not give up. The bond between parents and children is an extraordinarily powerful thing, and can reach across time and space like little else. So you keep the faith, and I know things will work out."

"Thanks, Mr. Gold. May I come visit again sometime?"

"Any time, Henry."

Belle was still blinking back tears when Rumplestiltskin came back through the curtain. He arched his brows.

"You were kind to him," she said.

"I'm not a complete monster."

She reached up to kiss him. "Indeed, you're not." The chain she held caught against his shoulder, and he reached up and grasped it. When he looked at the item, his mouth dropped open.

"My, my, Belle, what have you gotten into?"

She squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. "I-I don't know. I saw a little box of jewelry, and I wanted to see what was in it. That's the strangest necklace I've ever seen."

When he spoke, his voice was strained, as tough he was trying to hold something back. "It's not exactly a… a necklace, Belle. Those are nipple clamps."

No. She could not have heard him correctly. "Nipple clamps?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded solemnly. "Some people find that sort of stimulation pleasurable."

Well, the ends of the clamps were covered in rubber, which was probably to make it more comfortable. And those screws… Belle took one little clamp and fiddled with the screw, noticing how the clamp opening tightened and widened. Would she? Could she? _Dare_ she? "You know, I do like it when you bite my nipples."

He swallowed hard. "I've noticed that."

As the silence lengthened, Belle's mind began to race and her cheeks grew hot. What sort of wanton did he think she was? He'd seemed all right with the idea of kissing her private flesh, even though he hadn't actually done it, but he'd seemed utterly disgusted at the idea of her doing the same for him. Perhaps he wasn't protecting her, as she'd first thought, but rather was disgusted with her for thinking of something so base. And now, to suggest that he use tools on her? Oh, ogres, what must he think of her! "Forget I said anything… that really wasn't ladylike at all. Please forgive me." She turned in the direction of the little tin trunk, intending to put the chain away, but suddenly his hand was on her arm, a hold almost tight enough to hurt. She looked up at him, very uncertain. "Rumple?"

Without a word, he hoisted her to sit atop the high counter behind them, and yanked her head down for a kiss. He stabbed his tongue into her mouth without hesitation, while his hands roamed over her shoulders and breasts. Belle moaned blissfully as he sucked her tongue right into his mouth. Fairies, the man was so passionate… she loved that he wanted her like this.

Before she knew what was happening, she felt cool air on her back and realized that her blouse was gone. Moments later, her bra fell away, and his hands were on her bare nipples, pinching and squeezing, sending sweet shards of pleasure through her squirming body. Maybe he'd take her right here, on this counter… she grew wet at the thought.

Rumplestiltskin nibbled his way down her neck, over her breast, to lavish licks and sucks and little bites on her nipple, before drawing back, eyes blazing. He held out a hand. "Let's have it, then, love."

Heart pounding, Belle dropped the clamps and chain into his palm. "You're not disgusted," she said, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded.

His eyes blazed, and she was gratified to realize that the emotion there was sheer love. "Never, my darling. Now, you must tell me if it's too much. Remember, this should be pleasure, not pain."

Belle could hardly breathe as he fit the little device over her nipple, using the screw to tighten it to a point where she could feel a lovely tug. She nodded eagerly.

To her surprise, he slipped the chain around the back of her neck before attaching the other clamp. Then he reached for her blouse. "Come, love, let's get this back on."

As she lifted her arms to shimmy back into the garment, her breasts lifted, the movement creating a sharp, unexpected surge of sensation. Belle cried out, and her lover stilled. "Too much?"

She shook her head. "Just enough. Is that how it works? Am I to walk around outside with these things on?" She meant the comment in jest, and knew a frisson of fear when he didn't laugh.

Instead, he buttoned her blouse, effectively covering the exquisite device from the prying eyes of the world. "Would you like that?"

To walk about outside, completely aroused, while nobody knew it but Rumplestiltskin? "Would you?"

His eyes gleamed. "Very much. The missing persons board is up the street. Perhaps we could go and put up your father's poster, then come back here. I daresay you should find the whole experience… pleasurable." He hooked a finger beneath the chain behind her neck and tugged lightly. _Oh, fairies_.

"I think I would."

Very gently, he helped her down from the counter. "Then let's go."

The first few steps, Belle kept her arm beneath her breasts, afraid to let her flesh move enough to experience the full sensations. But when Rumplestiltskin opened the shop door, he shook his head. "Arms down, love. We don't want anyone noticing there's anything up, do we?"

Belle lowered her arms, struggling to keep her breath and expression normal. What the hell was she thinking? Was she really such a wanton she'd walk down a public street with pleasure devices on her nipples? It was almost like having Rumplestiltskin make love to her in front of the whole world!

"Nobody will know unless you say something," he murmured, and took her hand.

One step. Her breasts surged gently, sending shots of lightning from her nipples to her core. Another step. More sensation. She could feel the wetness between her legs. Next step. Another tug of desire, this one nearly strong enough to buckle her knees. Rumplestiltskin's hand was strong in hers, his voice low in her ear. "Is this giving you pleasure?"

Unable to speak, Belle bobbed her head in assent. Part of her wanted to be ashamed that she enjoyed such a thing, walking down a street in broad daylight while she hovered on the brink of orgasm, but the other, more decadent part of herself, the part that this man had awoken, just found it thrilling. How had she ever lived without this? How had she ever lived without _him_? At the next step, she felt dampness on her inner thighs. Her muscles were so tight it was difficult to keep her legs straight enough to move.

"I-I can't," she whispered. "I can't keep going. Rumple, please…. I need this to finish. I need…."

"I know what you need." He helped her turn around. "Let's go."

Belle walked back to the shop biting hard on her lip, struggling to keep the pleasure far enough at bay that she didn't make a fool of herself on the sidewalk of Storybrooke. But as much as they were in public, they were also in a world of their own, just her and Rumplestiltskin, where they shared a secret so profound it could only ever be understood between them. Yes it was her nipples that were bound, but as she looked into her lover's eyes, she knew that what was raging inside of her was a part of him as well. By the time she ducked through the doorway, she knew she was near the end of her endurance, so she sobbed in relief when she felt herself being lowered onto a small sofa just steps inside the shop. Moments later, he sat beside her, and helped her straddle his lap. Belle squirmed, trying to rub her wet sex against his trousers. It would take so little to push her over the edge. But his strong hands on her hips stopped the movement. Once she stilled, he unbuttoned her blouse.

"Now this is important," he said gently. "When I release the clamps, it can be very painful, so we must be careful. I want you to take a very deep breath and hold it."

When she was just a gasp away from orgasm? What sort of torture was this? But Belle obeyed, drawing in as much air as her lungs could take.

"Now, exhale very slowly."

As she did so, he loosened the clamp, and she understood why he'd warned her about the pain. It was sharp, and it nearly overwhelmed her arousal, until he bent to take her breast in his mouth. Within moments, any unpleasant sensation had faded into the sweetness of his licks and sucks.

When he drew away, Belle breathed in again, this time anticipating the pleasure that would follow the pain. Her entire body tensed, nerves tightening, and when she exhaled, and the sharp pain was replaced by Rumplestiltskin's loving tongue, she felt the swirling surge of sensation burst, and she cried out.

When the stars faded, she realized her face was inches from his. "How did that happen? I was just my breasts."

Rumplestiltskin looked downright smug. "A few women can climax from just nipple stimulation. It appears you are one of the lucky ones." He gathered her to rest against his shoulder. "Pleasure is beautiful on you, my love."

She wasn't certain she felt beautiful, half-dressed, panties soaked, the memories of her unladylike behavior burning fresh in her head. "I'm a terrible strumpet, aren't I?"

He kissed her neck. "You're the woman I love. There's no shame in sharing pleasure with the one you love. And, as I've told you before, it thrills me, how passionate you are. There are many many ways to enjoy making love, Belle, and I look forward to a lifetime of trying them out with you."

They remained that way for a long time, holding one another, Belle slowly wrapping her head around the way she'd just behaved. She'd never expected to be so consumed by a man, so desperate for pleasure at his that she'd allow herself to be attached to devices. Was she really that woman?

"I love you, Belle."

Yes, she was that woman. And she loved this man so much she might go mad from it, and at this moment, she didn't even care.

Eventually, they left the shop and went home. Rumplestiltskin brought out a small board painted in checks, and a bunch of little carved figurines, and taught her how to play a game he called chess. Just like her first night in the house, they had fruit and cheese and bread for supper. When they readied themselves for bed, Rumplestiltskin handed her a bottle of ointment.

"Comfrey," he said, with a wry smile. "No magic involved."

Gratefully, Belle rubbed the substance on her still-sore nipples, wondering how he'd known. It wasn't until she was snuggled into his arms, ready to fall asleep, that she remembered that she hadn't hung her father's poster. She didn't even remember where she'd left it.


End file.
